


Lazarus Species (and Ruffled Feathers)

by Veldeia



Series: Feathered Marvels [2]
Category: Dinotopia - James Gurney, Marvel Noir, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dinosaurs, Captivity, Confused Bucky Barnes, Dinosaurs, Established Relationship, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Tony Stark, M/M, Minor Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov, Misunderstandings, Protective Steve Rogers, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 09:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18221459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veldeia/pseuds/Veldeia
Summary: After the plane Bucky and Cap were trying to stop explodes and crashes in the sea, Bucky wakes up on an island ruled by dinosaurs who have enslaved the human inhabitants. His rescuers are among the brave few who still resist, and send him to capture one of the worst lackeys of the beasts: Tony Stark.Tony and Steve are enjoying their life together among the peacefully coexisting humans and dinosaurs of Dinotopia. When Tony is captured by the evil Northerners, Steve has to race across the island to save him. He's already lost Bucky—he can't lose Tony, too!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/gifts).



> This is a sequel to [Living Fossils (in Fine Feather)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618633), a much fluffier story which sets up Steve's arrival on the island of Dinotopia. While this story can probably be read without knowing anything about the previous part, if you're also not familiar with Dinotopia, I do recommend reading Part 1 first.
> 
> The main canons featured in this story are Dinotopia and Iron Man Noir (plus Steve and Bucky who are more 616 than MCU inspired), but it also strays markedly from both canons, starting with Tony ending up on Dinotopia in 1938. The Dinotopia setting is based on James Gurney's first two books, Dinotopia: A Land Apart from Time and Dinotopia: The World Beneath, and ignores everything else, but the entire conflict with the "Northerners" is something I came up with myself for added drama, and the tone of this story is slightly darker than that of the books.
> 
> This story is dedicated to my fellow dinosaur fan [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/pseuds/MassiveSpaceWren), who took part in the early stages of plotting and outlining—sorry it took me so very long to write this! Beta thanks once again go to [Wynnesome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnesome/pseuds/wynnesome)! <3

"Leave it, Buck!" Steve shouted. Bucky could barely make out what he was saying over the howling wind, but even though his next sentence was lost under the noise, the intention was clear. Steve thought they didn't have a chance. He wanted them to jump.

Bucky glanced past the wing of the plane and Steve's red, white and blue figure clinging to it. There was no land in sight, and the sea had to be at least several hundred feet below them. Steve might be able to take the impact from this height, but Bucky was sure he wouldn't.

He wouldn't survive the fall, but he certainly wouldn't survive the explosion, either. His only chance of pulling through was to defuse the bombs and take control of the plane. He might still be able to do that. He wasn't about to give up.

"I can do it, Cap!" he yelled back.

He turned towards the device closest to him again—only to learn that it was already too late.

There was a blinding flash of light and an ear-splitting boom, and in the fraction of a second before the pressure wave knocked him out, he had just enough time for the regretful thought that if Steve made it, he would probably blame himself for Bucky's death.

*********

There was pain.

Everything hurt, worse than anything Bucky had ever felt. Even thinking. The worst of all was his arm. Starting from his left shoulder, he felt nothing except brightly flaring agony, as if the entire limb were on fire. When he tried to take a deep breath, it sent him coughing, the fire spreading to his lungs as well, suffocating him. For a a small eternity, all he could do was cling to consciousness, because he was sure that if he let go, he wouldn't wake up again.

He'd been injured before in the line of duty, but it'd never felt like this; this felt like he must be dying.

Once the worst of the fit had passed, he tried to force his eyes to open, but that hurt, too. Far less so than his arm, and yet still too much. The skin of his face felt tight, his eyes crusty, like maybe all of it was covered in blood.

"Shh, it's okay," a soft female voice said in a thick accent Bucky couldn't place, and a gentle hand landed on his less-painful shoulder. "Go back to sleep. You need time to heal."

He tried to say "no," to explain to her that he couldn't, that she didn't understand that if he fell asleep it'd be the last thing he ever did, but all that came out was a groan.

"It's okay," she repeated.

His eyelids closed in spite of his struggles. He was just too tired and hurting too much; he knew he shouldn't sleep, but he also wanted that more than anything.

There was a cool cloth on his brow, one soothing feeling to counteract all the pain, and he felt himself starting to drift away.

*********

Bucky woke a few more times after that, or maybe it was many more. He couldn't keep track, and they were all the same, full of agony and confusion. Still, there was always a next time, and often it wasn't as bad as the previous one. He was getting better.

One day, he woke up and opened his eyes, and there was a woman in the room who wasn't one of the nurses he had grown used to. This woman was older, with silver-gray stripes in her light brown hair, which was gathered in a tight bun. "Hello," she greeted him, in a voice warmer than her severe looks might've suggested. Like most other people who'd talked to Bucky, her English was accented, but clearly pronounced and easy to understand. "How do you feel?"

"Better, I think," Bucky replied. Even though he still sounded weak, at least he could talk properly, without the raspy undertone or the constant coughing fits.

"I'm glad to hear that. Welcome to Crabb Castle. My name is Lina, and I'm the mayor of this town," she introduced herself.

So far, Bucky had only seen the room around him: stone walls, simple furniture, no windows. It could've been anywhere. He'd never heard of a place called Crabb Castle.

"What's your name?" Lina asked.

"James," Bucky said. Not that he was particularly worried about sharing details of himself, but he was wary, since he didn't know where he was or who these people were. But before he started asking those questions, there was one that was even more important. "Did you find my friend?"

Lina frowned. "No, it was just you. We didn't know to look for others. I'm sorry."

That couldn't be right. If Bucky had made it against all odds, surely Steve must have survived, too!

"Can you go back? He's got to be there!" Bucky said, and tried to sit up, leaning on his elbows—which was when the terrible pain struck him again and he realized that he only had one elbow to lean on. There was nothing at all where his left arm should've been. Nothing but hurt.

He cried out and fell back into the pillows, barely hearing Lina's voice in the background as she called out for help. One of the nurses was back in the room soon after, soothing hand on his arm—his good arm—the only arm he had left—

He might've suspected this earlier, at the back of his mind, but the full realization was still too much. For what felt like a small eternity, he couldn't do anything but lie there and try to breathe and blink away tears.

*********

The next few days passed in a haze that was less pain and more sorrow than the previous ones. His misery over his own grievous injury and his bottomless sadness for losing Steve merged into something so overpowering that he didn't know if he'd ever get over it.

Steve was Captain America. He wasn't supposed to die like this, fall into the ocean and drown alone in some unknown part of the world. He was supposed to survive things no normal man would. He couldn't be gone. He just couldn't. But the days passed, and no one showed up to tell Bucky that his friend had crawled up on the shore.

Steve was gone, and it hurt more than losing his arm. He would've happily given both arms to keep Steve alive. He would've given his life. Steve had been the closest thing to family he'd had, and now he had no one.

He slept, and he stared at the cold stone walls. He ate when one of the nurses brought him food and accepted the few old, worn books they offered him, even though he had no interest in reading them.

He couldn't even hold a book and turn the pages at the same time, because he would've needed two hands for that.

*********

Lina the mayor came to visit him again later, looking no less serious than before.

"James, I know you're having a difficult time with everything that's happened, but I think it's time you learned more about where you are. There are some things you need to know," she said, pulling up a chair to sit by Bucky's bed.

"Tara—she's one of the nurses—told me we're on an island called Dinotopia," Bucky said. It didn't mean anything to him, and when he'd heard it he hadn't really cared to ask for more details.

"Yes, that's true," Lina confirmed. "Did she tell you why?"

"No," Bucky said, studying her face and trying to make himself care.

Lina's expression grew even more somber. "It's because most of the land is ruled by terrible, tyrannical beasts. Dinosaurs."

Bucky's mouth fell open. He couldn't have heard that right. "Dinosaurs," he repeated dumbly. "Like those giant lizards?"

"Exactly. They've enslaved most of the humans who live here. This town is one of the few remaining bastions of human resistance," Lina said. The righteous indignation in her words, her voice and her expression, reminded Bucky painfully of Steve.

His first thought would've been that this was some kind of joke, but it couldn't possibly be. Not after everything he'd suffered, and not with how serious and honest Lina seemed about this. He couldn't imagine what she'd gain by making up such a fantastical lie.

"You're very lucky, James, that we found you first," Lina went on. "Otherwise you would've had a very different welcome. Here, you're among your own kind, and we'll do whatever we can to help you heal."

It struck him then that maybe Steve wasn't dead, after all; maybe those beasts had caught him instead, and he was now their slave. He knew Steve would fight until his last breath to be free again, but he was just one man. Bucky wasn't sure even Captain America could win against an entire island full of monsters.

If this was true, and if Steve was out there, somewhere, then Bucky needed to get to him and help him. And even if he wasn't, if he was truly dead and gone, Bucky knew what Steve would do in his situation. He would stand with the resistance against these reptilian oppressors.

All of a sudden, his life had a purpose again.

He'd spent too many days feeling sorry for himself. He wished Lina had told him all this earlier.

"So, If you're the resistance and you're trying to fight them, what can I do to help?" Bucky asked.


	2. Chapter 1

"Do you really have to go? I'm sure Sam's family would be happy to host you, too," Steve said, not even trying to hide the pleading tone as he hugged Tony closer.

Steve didn't want him to go. Their shared trip across Dinotopia had been perfect, almost dream-like, with new wonders to discover every day, and the man he had fallen in love with by his side. Starting off from Tony's house close to Volcaneum on the west coast of the island, they had traveled through the Hadro Swamps, listening to the duck-billed dinosaurs' hoots in the dusk, to the fairy-tale magnificence of Waterfall City. They'd followed the waters of the Polongo river down to Sauropolis, the capital, with its bustling streets full of both humans and dinosaurs, and visited many picturesque small villages in the foothills of the Forbidden Mountains.

Right now, they stood facing the windows of their guest room in Thermala, one of the high cities close to the summits of the mountain range, and in front of them opened a view that would put the Alps to shame. The mountains were mostly covered in snow, the azure late morning sky above them bright and cloudless. There were no dinosaurs roaming the landscape, since this was one of the few regions on the island where they didn't thrive. Instead, Steve could spot a pair of woolly mammoths making their way across the mountainside, laden with crates, no doubt transporting some of the handcrafted products the city traded with the lowlands for food and other necessities.

Tony leaned his head on Steve's shoulder, his hand squeezing Steve's bicep. "Yeah. You know I do. I've been away for too long already. I can't expect Jarvis to do all my work for me, after all. Besides, even though Sam's family might make the exception, the other inhabitants of Canyon City won't. I'm not welcome there."

"Are you sure? Everyone here always seems so friendly," Steve said. It was difficult to imagine these kind and smiling people—either human or dinosaur—holding a grudge against anyone.

Tony shifted away from Steve, clasping his hands together behind his back. "It's not like they'd drive me away with torches and pitchforks, if that's what you're imagining," he clarified. "It's just this quiet resentment, those glances that say they wouldn't be too sad if I tripped and fell head-first into one of the chasms. I disturbed the peace of their gateway to the underworld, beneath that very city, and laid my hands on the ancient technology. Even though there's no church to condemn me in this land, they still see it as a kind of sacrilege."

Perhaps it was inevitable that any culture, no matter how peaceful and accepting, had its untouchable tenets. Be that as it may, Steve thought it sad that they would give Tony the cold shoulder just because his nature as an explorer had drawn him to the caves under the island—especially since the technology he'd discovered had been so beneficial. It had given him the means overcome his weak heart and to build a suit of armor that now enabled him to help everyone on the island as the mysterious Iron Man. Somewhat duplicitously, no one ever turned away the armored figure, even though it was visibly similar to the forbidden technology. Then again, most people thought it was a robot, not a metal-plated man who put his life at risk every time he chose to wear that suit.

"If you told them about everything you do to help—" Steve began.

Tony shook his head. "No. It'd only make things worse. It's better to keep it a secret. It's not so bad, anyway," he said unconvincingly.

"I just wish they could see you the way I do," Steve said. He stepped closer to Tony, blocking his view of the window, and pulled him into a tender kiss. He tried to memorize everything about it; the softness of Tony's lips contrasting with the scratch of his beard and moustache, the scent of his skin, the weight of his nose pressed against Steve's. All of that, and his unending excitement at the fact that if someone caught them at it, no one would mind seeing two men kissing.

When he let go, Tony was giving him the most beautiful, radiant smile. "No one sees me like you do, Steve. I don't know what I've done to deserve you." He gave Steve's cheek a quick peck. "I used to think ending up on this island was the best thing that ever happened to me, but I was wrong. It's you."

"I'm going to miss you," Steve said, tightening his arms around Tony.

"You'll be too busy admiring all the breathtaking views to even notice," Tony said wistfully. "Trust me, as incredible as the rest of the island is, there aren't many places that can rival the home of the skybaxes and their pilots."

"Aren't there some ruins in the Rainy Basin, where you're going?" Steve asked, shifting the topic towards something that had been weighing on his mind.

Tony nodded. "Yes, there are, but any interesting artifacts in them were pillaged ages ago, since they're close to the North and a lot easier to reach than the caves. Besides, I've visited them before. I'm not going to ask the caravan to make the detour just to refresh my memory."

Steve leaned backwards, looking him in the eye. "I heard some people in the common room talking about the crossing, and they mentioned that it might be dangerous because of the Northerners."

Tony made an unhappy face at the mention of the people who threatened the centuries of peace on Dinotopia. "Eh, they don't usually risk venturing so far inland. I'd be more worried about the carnivores inhabiting the Basin, if I were you—or if I were a Northerner, really. That's their territory, and it takes skill to negotiate with them. They're as smart as the rest of the dinosaurs, but those old predatory instincts are strong."

"You're not making me any less concerned, you know," Steve complained.

"There's no need for that. It's no more dangerous than any of the traveling we've done so far," Tony assured him. "You just focus on enjoying the rest of your trip, and I'll see you again when you get back home."

*********

For all that the Mayor had been one of the first people in Crabb Castle who Bucky had gotten to know, he still felt vaguely uneasy about the summons to meet her. Once he'd survived his difficult and pain-filled early weeks and grown to be a part of the community, he'd come to understand how much everyone respected Lina Crabb. The only reason he'd received so much personal attention from her was that people from the outside world very rarely ended up on the island, and even less so in the parts of it that were still controlled by humans. To have the Mayor's attention was considered a privilege. She wasn't just the leader of the Resistance, but also the direct descendant of famous freedom fighters; the personification of their ongoing struggle against the reptilian oppressors.

Bucky had seen several dinosaurs himself during his training, and they'd been as scary as anything he'd ever witnessed when working alongside Captain America. He'd learned how to fight them, too, although it was difficult. They were much stronger than humans and had thick skin, sometimes even reinforced by natural armor plating—not to mention all the horns and teeth. 

He'd thought he was making progress, building on his previous army skills and putting his new, sturdy metal arm to good use, but being invited to talk to the Mayor somehow made him worry he hadn't kept up to the standards expected of him.

The Mayor's assistant escorted Bucky to her office, which was as severe-looking as she was, its walls lined with bookshelves, with no decorations aside from a few antique items displayed on pedestals. The Mayor herself sat behind a large desk covered in neatly stacked papers, but she smiled as her eyes met Bucky's.

"James. I'm glad to see you doing well," she greeted him. She was speaking English, which Bucky had now learned was a courtesy, an effort she made specifically when speaking to the people who'd arrived on the island in recent years. He was getting better at the common speech of the resistance movement, a strange hybrid of bits and pieces of many languages he recognized and some he had never heard before, but he definitely appreciated being able to communicate in English for a change.

"Thanks," Bucky said, shifting weight from one foot to the other.

She motioned at the chair facing her. "Please, take a seat."

Bucky sat down stiffly, nervous to hear what this was about.

"How's your arm?" she asked conversationally.

Bucky raised the metal limb in a wave. Made with technology that looked complex and ancient at the same time, it wasn't anything like a real arm; the fingers didn't move, and he only had a limited range of motion. He still thought it was far better than what he might've ended up with back home. He hated that he needed it, but it beat having no arm at all, and the medicines he'd been given helped keep the recurring phantom pains of missing the real limb at bay.

"I'm growing used to it," he said honestly. "And I'm grateful for it."

"We will always do our best to help anyone who's willing to join us in the fight," she said. "And that's why you are here today."

"I do want to fight for the cause," Bucky said right away, steeling his shoulders.

The Mayor's smile returned at his enthusiasm. "I know, and I've been told you might be ready for your first assignment soon."

That, he hadn't been expecting, but he was excited to hear it. So far, he hadn't seen much of the island beyond the town walls and the nearby training grounds. He was definitely ready to visit other parts of it, and if that came with the chance to do some good, all the better. "Yes. I'm ready. I can fight either men or monsters, as needed," he assured her.

"And you may well need to face both if you join this team. It's going to be dangerous, and getting as far inland as you need to go will require stealth and skill," she warned him.

"Well, I have both. I fought in the war before I ended up here," he said. "What is this mission about?"

"There's someone we need to capture, a malicious and very intelligent man who could be invaluable to our cause if we can get him to cooperate. Perhaps you've heard of him in the outside world. His name is Tony Stark," the Mayor said, handing Bucky a sketch of a man with a beard and a mustache.

Bucky would have recognized the name even without the familiar-looking picture. He'd seen drawings of this man before, on the cover of a magazine called Marvels; he'd quite enjoyed reading those adventures. "I have, and I know he's intelligent, but I don't think he's evil."

"Do you actually know him, though? He's working for the scaly scum now," the Mayor said, using the common slang for the dinosaur oppressors. "He's building weapons and other tools that help them keep our kind under control, which means that he's either a traitor to his own people, or enslaved and unable to fight back. If he's as smart as everyone says, I'd think the first option more likely. Surely he could've freed himself by now if he'd truly wanted to."

"No, I didn't know him, I just read his stories. He was a celebrity, and then he went missing. I guess that's when he ended up here," Bucky said.

"That seems to be what happened," the Mayor agreed. "He came here, and he's been working on repurposing the ancient technology of this island for the dinosaurs. We've gotten our hands on some of that too, but we can't make it work. With his expertise, we could, and that could turn the tide in our favor."

Bucky tried to picture the dashing adventurer from the magazine as a lackey to evil lizards who'd subjugated humans, and he couldn't quite see it, but the Mayor was right. Everything he knew about Tony Stark came from stories. It was entirely possible the man wasn't as heroic as his chroniclers had made him to be.

So far, the people who had rescued Bucky had been nothing but kind to him, and he had no reason to doubt the word of Lina Crabb, who was universally admired among the Resistance. The dinosaurs seemed exactly like the terrifying monsters they'd been described as, and if there were indeed humans suffering under their rule, it was Bucky's duty to help them. If that meant kidnapping Tony Stark, that was what he would do.

*********

Most respectable citizens of Dinotopia weren't overly fond of the vast, jungly expanse of the Rainy Basin. Outside of the few commonly used trails, it was difficult terrain. The air was hot and humid, much of the insect life poisonous. Then there were the predators who roamed the region: the huge tyrannosaurs, allosaurs and giganotosaurs, and the smaller but shrewder dromaeosaurs, who, unlike their cousins in the cities, had chosen to maintain their original carnivorous lifestyle. None of them were supposed to prey on humans or dinosaurs, just the less intelligent creatures of the forests and rivers, but they didn't always abide by the rules.

Of course, Tony wasn't like most citizens of the island, and he had always enjoyed crossing the Basin. It reminded him of his travels through many other rainforests, in the Amazon, the Congo and Sumatra. As amazing and beautiful as Dinotopia was, most parts of it were quite safe. Here, like high up in the Forbidden Mountains or in the caves deep beneath Canyon City, one could still find true adventure.

On this particular trip, he found more excitement than he was looking for.

The assault came around halfway through their crossing, without any warning. Tony was walking close to the front of the caravan, following the pair of ankylosaurs leading the way, when suddenly, there was a loud bang very close to them. Tony's instant reaction was to duck, hugging the muddy ground to take cover from the supposed fire.

Even though his ears were ringing, he could hear the dinosaurs' distressed roars. He also felt the rumble of their heavy footfalls as they backed away, skirting past him.

The initial shock starting to settle, he realized that no gunshots or additional explosions had followed the first one. Hopefully, that meant someone had just wanted to scare them and to block their path instead of hurting them.

Slowly, warily, he stood up and took in the chaos around him.

Most of the group had turned around, hurrying away from the threat at varying speeds. Some of the humans who'd been riding the large sauropods had fallen to the ground as their steeds panicked and reared up, and were being helped back to their feet. It was obvious that everyone was deeply shaken by the attack; people born on Dinotopia had never faced open hostility like this. Tony, of course, had seen plenty of it.

Staying low, he crossed the track to the shadow of the trees lining it and moved towards where the explosion had gone off, to see if he could figure out what it had been and who'd attacked them—although he was sure he already knew the answer to the second question. The only people on the island who'd ever resort to violence like this were the Northerners.

He'd reached a spot where there was a wide, shallow pothole breaking the tracks, no doubt where the explosive had been, when the culprits made an appearance. They stepped out of the jungle across the tracks from Tony: six figures dressed in browns and greens for camouflage, carrying guns.

Tony hadn't seen a single firearm in the years since he'd ended up here. It was a shocking reminder of the past, even if these were a haphazard collection of different vintages, from something that looked like a modernized take on a musket to a rifle suitable for big-game hunting. That could certainly hurt a dinosaur. The thought that someone would want to harm the gentle beasts was nauseating; aside from the wilder predators who roamed this jungle, the dinosaurs wouldn't harm a fly.

"We're here for Tony Stark," one of the group spoke up in a heavily accented form of the humans' lingua franca, maybe a Northern dialect Tony wasn't familiar with. Even with the hood shadowing his features, Tony could tell this particular Northerner was quite young, probably under twenty. One of his arms was bare from the shoulder down and seemed to be made of metal. "As long as he comes with us, no one else has to get hurt."

Tony grimaced to himself. On the most pacifist island in the entire world, of course he'd somehow manage to end up catching the eye of the local villains. He didn't even know what he'd done to make them want him—he'd been careful not to get Iron Man involved in the skirmishes with the Northerners.

He left the cover of the trees, raising his hands in surrender as he approached the bandits.

"Tony! You can't just let them take you!" a firm female voice called out from behind him. It was Paola, one of the leaders of the convoy. Instead of retreating with most of the group, she had, like Tony, thought of others' security first. Her dark brown skin was smudged with dirt, no doubt from when she'd taken cover from the blast, but her expression was fierce.

Tony flashed her a rakish smile, as if he were posing for the fans of Marvels. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'm used to this kind of thing," he assured her, and turned to face the would-be kidnappers. "Alright. I'm here. Whatever beef you've got with me, we can settle it without involving the others."

"That him?" the Northerner wielding the hunting rifle, a tall man with a stubbled chin, asked the metal-armed one.

"Yes, looks like him," the younger Northerner acknowledge. "Like I said, Stark. If you come with us and help the humans instead of serving the monsters, they're free to go," he promised Tony.

"The only monsters on this island are you!" Paola yelled at him, eyes full of anger unlike Tony was used to seeing on the Dinotopians' faces.

"She's starting to get on my nerves," the man with the rifle complained, aiming its barrel at her.

Tony stepped in to place himself between Paola and the gun, arms spread wide. "I already said I'd come with you, but only if you keep your promise and leave the others alone," he warned the Northerners

"We will," the metal-armed man said, and waved his regular human arm at two of the other Northerners. "Secure him."

The pair of Northerners stepped in and locked heavy manacles around Tony's wrists, restraining his hands behind his back. Definitely very secure and not something he could easily break free from. An inconvenience, but he could deal with it. For now, he played the part of an obedient prisoner and allowed his captors to lead him away from the tracks and into the jungle, following a path that they must've cleared for themselves on their way in.

Tony couldn't help feeling a touch of respect towards the Northerners for having made their way through the difficult and dangerous region. He knew they lacked the rest of the Dinotopians' experience of dealing with dinosaurs, which meant they wouldn't have been able to negotiate with the predators, but would've needed to fight them off. It couldn't have been an easy trip. Particularly since he could tell as he walked amidst them, closely watched by the rifle-wielding man behind him, that they weren't used to moving in the jungle. More than once, he saw someone trip and stumble on roots and undergrowth.

Tony spent a lot of time crossing such challenging terrain, himself. He had no intention of letting the Northerners take him wherever they were planning on going, and he could use their lack of experience to his advantage.

He bided his time, waiting for a suitable moment. He got one sooner than he'd been expecting: the procession stopped to puzzle out how to get around a thick tree trunk that had fallen down to block their path. As soon as he saw that his guardian's eyes weren't on him, he took off, dashing into the thick undergrowth around them.

There were angry shouts and sounds of rustling branches and footfalls behind him as his captors came after him, but he'd gained at least a minute or two. He was fairly sure he'd move faster than them, even though having his hands tied behind his back made keeping his balance tricky.

He'd done all of this before. He'd spent years of his life running from bad guys through jungles and deserts and over mountains. He could do this. He just needed to lose his captors in the green. He'd worry about being stranded in tyrannosaur territory after that.

A loud bang and a sudden lance of pain through his right shoulder cut short his hopes of an easy escape.

He hadn't thought anyone could possibly hit him past all the leaves and trunks and bushes. Whoever had taken the shot must've been highly skilled.

He stumbled, landed on his knees, and forced himself to get back up again, gritting his teeth. He was fairly sure it wasn't a bad hit, but with his hands caught behind his back, he couldn't put pressure on the wound, so it was bleeding freely. That really wasn't a good thing in carnivore country. Not good at all.

He tried to keep going as fast as he could. The footsteps behind him were getting closer. The Northerners were gaining on him, no matter how he tried to hurry.

"Stark! I thought you were a man of your word," the metal-armed Northerner shouted after him, voice accusing. "You promised to come with us."

Tony didn't waste his breath on replying, and didn't slow down. Instead, he skirted to the left, hoping the thicker foliage there would hide him.

He was too late, and too slow.

Something heavy collided with the side of his head, and everything went dark.

*********

Bucky was annoyed at Stark. What had he been thinking, trying to make a run for it like that? He must've known he couldn't get very far here, alone, tied up and unarmed, against Bucky and the other five Resistance guerillas. He hadn't wanted to harm Stark. They needed to get him back in one piece; he'd be no use to anyone if he was badly injured, let alone dead, and as long as they were traveling on foot, they needed him fit enough to walk and not slow them down too much. Luckily, Bucky's skills as a sharpshooter had not disappointed him, and all they had to deal with was a graze on Stark's shoulder.

They stopped to tend to the wound and wait for Stark to regain consciousness from the second blow Bucky had delivered, this one with the butt of his rifle. Following the instructions from Mona—a distant relative of Lina's who had more experience dealing with dinosaurs than anyone else in the group—they were careful to collect any bloodstained fabrics and bury them. She warned them that the scent would draw out predators, like sharks in the water.

Bucky hadn't seen any of the big predators yet, but it'd been creepy enough camping the previous night, taking turns to defend their ground from the many smaller, nocturnal dinosaurs roaming the jungle. The sounds they'd heard and the flashes of teeth and claws that he'd seen had been enough to make his hair stand on end. He wasn't used to being around dangerous animals, and even less so when it came to prehistoric monsters.

It didn't take too long until Stark started to stir, and soon, he was lucid enough to get on his feet and continue walking. Most other Resistance members treated him without a hint of compassion. Bucky found it hard to do the same. They'd kidnapped him, after all, and bound him and shot at him and knocked him out, which meant he probably had a nasty headache on top of the pain from his wound.

He tried to remind himself that Stark had brought this on himself by abandoning his fellow humans to serve the lizard oppressors. Bucky hadn't shown any compassion towards Nazis during the war, and this was no different. Stark wasn't just an enemy soldier, he was an evil collaborator. He didn't deserve sympathy.

So, Bucky bit his tongue when he felt the others were being too relentless, dragging Stark up and pushing him to walk faster. Hurrying was a good idea; Bucky had no desire to spend more time than absolutely necessary in this jungle, and it'd taken them almost two days to cross on the way in, when they hadn't been slowed down by a prisoner.

Once they got going again, several hours passed uneventfully. Stark stayed quiet, and whenever Bucky glanced at him, he seemed grim, without any trace of the roguish confidence he'd showed when they'd caught him. It was a testament to his strength of character, and probably also his familiarity with trekking and injuries, that he nevertheless seemed to be keeping up with the group's pace easily.

By Bucky's reckoning, they were getting close to the first of the river crossings when Mona, at the head of the procession, stopped and raised a hand to signal that they should stop.

"What now?" Rumlow called out irritably. 

Mona turned around, shook her head and pressed a finger over her lips. Even from where Bucky stood, all the way at the tail of the party, her fear was obvious. The reason for it became clear after a moment's wait.

A shiver ran through the ground, then another, and after the third, Bucky realized it wasn't a small earthquake, but the footsteps of a massive beast lumbering through the forest. The sounds of breaking branches followed, and then, a roar louder than any animal sound he'd ever heard before.

He'd thought they'd managed to pull off their mission without meeting the worst of all dinosaurs, but now it looked like they'd run out of luck on the return leg of their journey.

While everyone else had followed Mona's wordless plea, freezing where they stood, stock still and silent, Stark seem to have missed it. "Let me deal with this," he said sharply, casting a glance over his shoulder, his eyes going from Rumlow to Bucky, like he was trying to figure out who was in charge.

At the front of the group, a shape emerged from the foliage: the head of a monster straight out of a nightmare, or even worse, from some drug-induced hallucination. It was like no lizard Bucky had seen, its snout thicker, with mean-looking ridges above its gleaming eyes, and jaws that opened to reveal rows and rows of huge, sharp teeth.

Rumlow had stepped in to restrain Stark, with Stark squirming against his hold. The other members of the party were pointing guns at the monster. Bucky did so, too, although their haphazard collection of firearms seemed like a poor match against such an unimaginably horrifying creature. He would've been lying if he'd said his human hand wasn't shaking.

The dinosaur roared again, and the sound was almost like a physical blow, rattling Bucky's very bones.

Stark answered it.

Still held in Rumlow's grasp, Stark made a guttural noise that didn't resemble the dinosaur's roar very much, but neither was it like any human language Bucky had ever heard. It definitely wasn't the common language of the island he'd been taught, which was the first language of most people in the Resistance, and which Stark and the rest of the caravan had also understood.

The dinosaur seemed to hesitate, and instead of another roar, it growled out a string of barking sounds somewhat similar to what Stark had made.

Rumlow clamped a hand over Stark's mouth before he managed to say anything else. "This had better not be another escape attempt. We were told to bring you in alive, sure, but no one said you need to have all your limbs intact," he hissed into Stark's ear.

"I'm trying to make sure we all get to keep our limbs, you bonehead," Stark snapped back when Rumlow let go of his face, and then switched to the dinosaur language again.

The exchange seemed to stretch on for a long time, although in reality, it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. In the end, the huge dinosaur bowed its head slightly and snarled, then backed away, disappearing into the greenery.

Stark hung his head, too, heaving out a shaky breath that was loud enough for Bucky to hear from several paces away.

"What did you say to it?" Rumlow demanded him, turning him around by the arms to face him.

"I convinced her," Stark said, with emphasis on the pronoun, "that since you're armed, which is something she's not familiar with, she wouldn't be able to take down the entire group without getting hurt in the process. Which means we're not worth the trouble for a quick snack. You're welcome."

"Don't expect thanks. We'd be halfway through this green cesspit already if you hadn't tried to run," Rumlow said. He turned Stark around and yanked at the manacles around his wrists, making him wince in pain as the movement jarred his injured shoulder. "Let's not stand around waiting to see how many other creatures we can lure out. Start walking again, all of you!"

Rumlow was right that Stark probably didn't deserve thanks, because he'd been giving the group enough trouble earlier. Still, Bucky couldn't help feeling impressed. That had been exactly the kind of display of courage and smarts that Stark's chroniclers had described on the pages of his magazine: standing up to deal with a threat even when he was held captive and surrounded by enemies, and was all around having the worst day imaginable. 

Bucky was probably being childish with his awe, and he needed to get over it.

He hadn't understood the language Stark and the dinosaur had been speaking, and he didn't think anyone else in the group had, either, which meant that they couldn't know if Stark was telling the truth about what he'd said. Maybe he'd actually been sending out a message asking for help. That would mean they had even more reasons to hurry, in case more monsters showed up to rescue their favorite henchman.


	3. Chapter 2

Tony had been wrong.

Sure, Steve was enjoying Canyon City just as much as Tony had promised. It was every bit as magical as Tony had said: a labyrinth of stone carved by both nature and people; an architectural miracle that was like Venice but in three dimensions, its canals full of open air instead of water.

The air belonged to skybaxes, which were the largest flying animals Steve had seen, resembling neither birds nor bats with their leathery wings, long beaks and bony crests. Only trained pilots were able to ride them, or rather, to fly with them. The way Sam described it, a _Quetzalcoatlus skybax_ and a pilot weren't a rider and a steed, but two companions working as equal partners. Sam and Redwing had been flying together since they were young, and by Sam's own words, understood each other better than anyone.

Steve had asked, only half joking, if he could also learn to ride a skybax. Sam had told him, also in a light tone, that training usually began at a young age, but that exceptions had sometimes been made for exceptional individuals, which Steve certainly was.

Of course, Steve wasn't alone in being earthbound. Only a minority of the city's inhabitants were actively working pilots, and most places were accessible by foot, if one could figure out the correct route. Luckily, Steve had skilled local guides in Sam, his family and friends. Together with them, he spent several days exploring the city, admiring the countless rock carvings and graceful bridges and cathedral-like galleries, and once he felt like he'd seen enough for one day, there were concerts to listen to and flight displays to see, and many amicable family dinners in the evenings.

All of it was amazing, and Steve enjoyed every minute, and yet, he still found himself thinking of how much better it would've been to see all of this with Tony by his side. Tony would've been so excited about all these sights, and could've told him of the myths related to the carvings, translating the various saurian languages into English where Steve's skills failed him. Sam and his family knew English as well, but to them, it was the language of the people who'd enslaved their ancestors, so they weren't particularly fond of it. They'd mostly learned it since it was helpful when communicating with recent arrivals to the island, like Steve.

In the end, as incredible as the place was, deep down Steve was looking forward to going back, traversing the island all the way to the west coast, so he could hold the man he loved in his arms again.

*********

Traveling across the Rainy Basin on foot could've been a lot of fun if the circumstances had been different, Tony thought. Instead of the easy tracks worn smooth by decades or even centuries of caravans, they were making their way through a pathless jungle. They were reversing the route the Northerners had cleared on the way in, so the jungle wasn't entirely impenetrable, but it was still a proper hike involving several challenging river crossings and many other natural obstacles.

They didn't have any further tyrannosaur encounters; Tony assumed that was mostly because he'd convinced the one they'd met to leave them alone, and either they were still in her territory, or she had gotten word to others that this specific party was too risky to approach. That was good. Even if fighting a _Tyrannosaurus_ might've given him another window of opportunity for trying to escape, he was genuinely worried that the Northerners would've been able to injure a dinosaur in a fight, and he didn't want that. Tyrannosaurs were dangerous, unpredictable and difficult to deal with, but they weren't evil, and didn't deserve to be shot at by these idiots.

Towards the end of their second day, the terrain began to grow more hilly, and on the third, they emerged into a proper pre-Alpine landscape. Tony knew where they were: these were the Backbone Mountains. They'd been heading northwest from where they'd met the caravan. They clearly weren't aiming for the commonly used pass further away, but were taking a more challenging route directly over the mountains. A group with large quadruped dinosaurs would struggle doing that, but a small team consisting only of humans could manage it without problems.

The mountains were beautiful, and Tony would've enjoyed this new perspective over them if he hadn't been a prisoner. The Northerners relented to freeing his hands when the terrain grew so steep that it required scrambling, occasionally using all limbs. The wound on his shoulder stung if he put too much weight on his right arm, but overall, it wasn't too bad. His captors had been kind enough to cover it with an antiseptic poultice for the first few days, keeping an eye on it to make sure it didn't grow infected in the hot, humid climate. They kept him fed and watered as well, which made sense, since he wouldn't be much good on the road if he was too badly dehydrated and low on energy.

After four days of this almost-pleasant trekking, they descended to the Northern Plains, where they met another small group of Northerners guarding a larger group of steeds. Unsurprisingly, these weren't dinosaurs, but some type of early horse ancestors. From there on, the trip became far less fun: Tony's captors locked him in a carriage, where he sat as they rode across the plains. Again, it wasn't as bad as it could've been. They still let him out a few times every day so that he could stretch his legs and answer nature's call, and they still gave him food and water, but spending day and night in a windowless cabin wasn't exactly his idea of a good time—and he suspected it was only a prelude to what he had to look forward to later.

He mapped every square inch of his small wooden prison, searching for weak points or any tools he could use to break out, although he knew his chances of a successful escape here were close to nil. The jungle had offered countless opportunities to hide, but the Northern Plains were a wide expanse of grass and rock with almost no cover. Whenever he saw his captors, he tried to strike up conversations, but they came to nothing. Most of the Northerners clearly didn't like him at all. The only one who seemed at all curious was the metal-armed young man, who he'd learned was called James, but even he was wary and kept his answers to Tony's questions brief.

Finally, after three days and nights of uneventful waiting, Tony was escorted out of the carriage to another, worse prison. His hands shackled behind his back again, he was walked across a large courtyard. The castle around him was a melange of many different historical periods and styles, like most other buildings in Dinotopia, but the dinosaurian influences were very obviously missing from it: there were no intricate carvings or other fine decorative details to be seen. He wasn't given time to admire the sights, but was taken directly to a stairway leading down to a dungeon where a series of dimly lit stone-walled corridors brought him to his new home.

"Welcome to Crabb Castle," Rumlow, the tough-looking, stubble-chinned Northerner announced, and shoved Tony into a cell with enough force that he stumbled and landed on his knees. "I don't think you'll enjoy your stay, unless you come to your senses about where your loyalties lie," Rumlow added, locking the door behind him.

There was a dinosaurian hiss from somewhere across the room, and Tony got back to his feet and turned around just in time to see Rumlow aiming a kick between the bars of another cell. Tony didn't catch sight of the victim, just heard the thwack of Rumlow's boot connecting with something, a pained yelp, and the following thump of a body slumping to the ground.

"Shut up, scaly scum," Rumlow snarled in the Northerners' version of the lingua franca, then turned towards his young accomplice and, to Tony's astonishment, switched to flawless American English. "See, James? You just need to keep them in their place. It's not looking so scary now."

Tony grabbed the bars of his cell and "Hey! Wait!" after them, also in English, but while James turned to cast a hesitant glance at him, Rumlow put a hand on his shoulder and ushered him out of the room.

Tony sighed and pressed his forehead against the bars. With his keepers' taking away their bright lantern, the room was illuminated only by a much smaller one hanging on the wall close to the doorway, its light barely reaching the furthest corners of Tony's cell. The back and left walls of his cell were stone, with no windows, while the bars of the front and right walls were spaced closely enough that only the tiniest of dinosaurs would be able to slip past them. There were four cells in total: one next to Tony's, two across on the other side of the corridor dividing the space.

"Anyone there? You alright?" Tony called out in the common Saurian language.

There were soft shuffling noises in the cell diagonal to his, closest to the lantern lighting the space. Under its glow, Tony could see the figure that made its way to the bars, limping. It was a medium-sized theropod dinosaur, possibly a _Deinonychus_ , although it was so skinny, its feathers so mangled and its skin so gray with exhaustion or illness, that Tony couldn't be entirely sure of that.

"I'm here," the dinosaur replied him in a sibilant theropod accent, settling on the ground by the bars of the cell. "I'm Seren, daughter of Tharen, and I'd be lying if I told you I'm alright. You won't be, either. We are prisoners in the North, and nothing here is alright."

*********

"Congratulations on your very successful first mission," the Mayor said to Bucky, a pleased smile on her lips. "Ambushing that caravan and bringing Stark to us through that lizard-infested jungle was no mean feat."

"I didn't do much. You should be thanking Rumlow, really," Bucky said modestly. Again, he was seated across from her in her office, and again, he felt like a schoolboy brought to meet the principal, even if her words were nothing but kind.

"I already did, and I appreciate his work as well. He's proven himself time and time again, but I'll be entirely honest with you: I have my suspicions about him." The Mayor leaned on her elbows, bending closer to Bucky, lowering her voice. "See, a good leader needs to be firm, but also understanding. Brock Rumlow is skilled at his job, but I fear he might enjoy being cruel, and that's not the mark of a good man. We want to fight the dinosaurs, not turn into them. To succeed in our cause, we sometimes need to do terrible things, but the moment we start liking them, we've gone too far."

Bucky was surprised, but pleased to hear those words; he'd been getting that very same feeling about Rumlow, too, and sometimes it'd made him uneasy. That she saw the same thing made him respect her even more. "I couldn't agree more," he told her.

"I'm putting the two of you in charge of Stark while he's our prisoner. I trust you to see to it that Brock doesn't go overboard with him," the Mayor went on.

"I'm honored you trust me so much," Bucky said.

The Mayor reached over the table to pat Bucky's good shoulder. "I consider myself a good judge of character, and I like what I've seen about you. Now, let's get started with the next part of this operation. Go find Brock, and the two of you bring Stark to the Vault. I need to explain to him why he's here."

Rumlow wasn't difficult to find: he was in the canteen, enjoying the variety of foods on offer. Bucky had already done the same earlier, and it had been wonderful to have a nice slow-cooked stew and fresh fruits for dessert, quite the contrast to the meager rations they'd had on the road. Bucky was developing a taste for the island's foods, which tended to be spicier than what he was used to.

"Sorry to interrupt your meal, but the Mayor asked for us to take Stark to the Vault," Bucky told him.

"Ah. Just give me two minutes to finish, she can wait that long," Rumlow said, and hurried to clean his plate.

It only took a few more minutes after that for them to make their way to the dungeon and fetch Stark from his cell.

"So, you speak English, then?" Stark tried as they left the room, picking their route through the corridors towards the Vault, which was located on the same underground level of the castle. "You must be recent. Where are you from?"

"Indiana," Bucky replied, without even thinking.

Rumlow nudged him on the good arm. "No fraternizing with the prisoner, kid."

"What could he possibly do with that information?" Bucky asked back, annoyed. If they wanted to win Stark over to their side, surely they'd be better off trying to get on friendly terms with him.

"Look, I know you're new to this, and I know the Mayor and I don't always see eye to eye on things, but let's make one thing clear. This here," Rumlow said, and grabbed the back of Stark's shirt to twist him around roughly so he was facing Bucky, "is not a good person. Stark's the enemy," he spoke, as if Stark couldn't actually hear and understand every word. "And not just any enemy, but worse than most, because he's smart. He'll take whatever you tell him and use it against you. He'll try to get under your skin, and if you're not careful, he'll have you working for him instead of us. So, if you must handle him with kid gloves, fine, but don't fall for his tricks."

"You're the people who kidnapped me. You might want to take a good look at who the real villains are in this scenario," Tony retorted, his eyes on Bucky's.

"And there we go. Just keep your mouth shut, will you?" Rumlow yanked Stark backwards by the shirt collar and shoved him against the nearest stone wall; the way his head collided with it made Bucky wince in sympathy.

Stark stayed quiet for the rest of the walk, looking dazed, a bruise blooming on his forehead.

Bucky couldn't stop thinking about the Mayor's words earlier. He wondered how, exactly, he was supposed to keep Rumlow in check, when Rumlow saw him as little more than an ignorant kid. Besides, it wasn't impossible that Rumlow was right to take such a cautious attitude towards Stark. Bucky really was new to everything that was going on in this island, and learning more every day.

A few more turns and they were facing the imposing metal door of the Vault, befitting of its name. Bucky had never visited the place, but he'd heard rumors that it contained some of the most valuable possessions of the Resistance. Rumlow turned the large wheel set in the door to open it while Bucky kept a hand on the chain of Stark's shackles, just in case.

They stepped through to the Vault, and Bucky heard Stark swear under his breath as he took in the view around them.

The room wasn't filled with treasure, although what he saw was as pretty as any jewelry: metal carved into intricate shapes that gleamed in tones of gold, silver and copper. Clearly, these were parts of machines, but they were unlike any technology Bucky had seen. The thing that resembled them the most was the construction of his metal arm, which he suspected must be inspired by these creations. None of the contraptions looked complete, but a few had enough parts left to see the general size and shape of them, which resembled dinosaurs of some kind. The countless smaller pieces also looked like parts of living beings, like fins or vertebrae, except that everything was made of metal.

Bucky was so mesmerized by the strange technology before him that he didn't even notice the large living dinosaur in the room until it made a low growl. It was a rhinoceros-like creature with a beak like a bird's and a huge bony crest extending from the back of its skull. The crest had an impressive pattern of green, brown and black that looked like a pair of huge, staring eyes. Bucky had seen beasts like this before, at the head of the caravan Stark had been traveling with. It was securely chained to the wall from each of its limbs as well as its thick neck.

Stark's gaze had gone to the creature as well, his face twisting to a disapproving frown, and he tried to take a step towards it, but Rumlow pulled him back sharply by his shackles.

The echo of approaching footsteps drew their attention away from the dinosaur and back to the door, still partly open, to see the Mayor enter the Vault. She eyed Stark appraisingly. "Mr. Stark. You look just as handsome as the pictures we had of you," she said—not in English, but in the common tongue that was her first language. Clearly, the courtesy of speaking a foreign one was only reserved to those she held in high regard.

"I bet those didn't come with as many bruises," Stark commented sourly. "And you are?" 

"Lina Crabb. You may call me the Mayor," she introduced herself.

The disapproval returned to Stark's face. "Crabb, huh? Should've guessed."

"I'm proud to continue my family's tradition of fighting the oppression," the Mayor declared, holding her chin up proudly—again, Bucky could almost see an echo of Steve in her demeanor. "Which is more than you can say for yourself. But now's your chance to change that."

"If you describe the best-working democracy I've ever witnessed as oppression, I'm extremely curious to hear what your alternative would be," Stark replied skeptically.

"A system where humans are not enslaved by monsters," the Mayor said, casting a glance at the dinosaur chained to the corner of the room.

"We already have that!" Stark insisted.

While the Mayor's voice and expression were growing colder. "Perhaps for men like yourself who have sold their souls and serve the beasts."

Stark let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "It's like I'm talking to a wall."

"If there's a shred of decency left in you, a remnant of a conscience, you'll atone for everything you've done by helping us in the fight," the Mayor continued. "What you see in this room are the tools that could make all the difference in it. I need to you to fix them. Make them work so we can use them."

"No. Never," Stark said, his shoulders squared, without a hint of hesitation.

"Fine. I didn't expect this to be easy," the Mayor said, returning his unyielding expression in kind. "Take him back to his cell. Perhaps a few days in there will help him reconsider his choices."

Rumlow tugged at Stark's shackles, pulling him towards the door. "With pleasure, Mayor," he said.

"Give him no food or water until I say so," the Mayor added.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. Coming from someone who'd spoken up against unnecessary cruelty less than an hour ago, that was decidedly ruthless.

He caught a brief flash of regret in her eyes. "As I said, James, sometimes we need to do bad things for the cause," she told him, then walked past them in hasty steps, leaving Bucky and Rumlow to seal the door and return Stark to his prison.


	4. Chapter 3

Steve was having dinner with Sam's family when the message arrived, bringing both the pleasant evening and his tour of the island to an abrupt end.

Everyone tensed up at the melodious ring of the doorbell echoing through the house from the front door. Visitors were common in the Wilson household, but never during dinner time—interrupting it was plain rude. Sam's father got up, the irritated look on his face possibly the least friendly Steve had ever seen him, and headed for the door.

When he returned a minute later, his expression had turned grave. Tailing him was a petite, dark-haired lady in a skybax rider's uniform who looked equally serious.

"Eliana," Sam greeted her—the skybax riders being a small, close-knit community, all of them knew each other by name.

"Sam," the pilot returned, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "I'm very sorry to interrupt your meal, but I was told to deliver my message to you as soon as I could." Eliana's gaze trailed over the other people around the table until it settled on Steve. "Are you Steve, the dolphinback?"

"Yes," Steve replied. His mind instantly came up with the most likely reason for the gloomy looks and the fact that she was asking for him, specifically. With the realization came a cold emptiness in his chest. "Something's happened to Tony."

Eliana bowed her head briefly before confirming his fears. "I'm afraid so. The caravan he was traveling with was ambushed. The Northerners took him."

"When did this happen?" Steve demanded.

"A week ago," Eliana said.

"A week!" Steve repeated, getting up from his seat, his voice raised in outrage. "Why wasn't I told earlier?"

Sam had stood up as well, to walk around the table so he could place a placating hand on Steve's arm. "Unfortunately, we don't have those telephones of yours here. News travels through many routes, but most are not as fast as what you're used to."

Eliana seemed relieved to have Sam backing her up. "Yes, and you have to understand, the caravan was waylaid in the middle of the Rainy Basin. Since they didn't have any skybaxes accompanying them, no one knew of the attack until they'd made it across to Waterfall City. Then, I was first sent to take word to Tony's house, in case any of his friends were there, which is where I met Edwin Jarvis. He's the one who told me to come to you. He sent you this." She held out a small parchment roll; Steve could recognize the Stark seal on it.

Without waiting for further words, Steve opened Jarvis's message. _Dear Steve_ , it said. _You will have heard the news by now, and I expect you're thinking the same thing I am: we must try to rescue Tony. Knowing him, he may well have escaped already, but if he hasn't, we must free him. Even if he has, the North is wide. Crossing the plains alone and without supplies is a desperate endeavor. I am inviting all his friends to gather at the town of Cornucopia as soon as possible, so that we can begin planning our search for him. Yours, Edwin Jarvis._

Steve looked up, his eyes meeting Sam's, who was clearly curious, but had stayed to the side instead of trying to read the letter over his shoulder.

"What's the fastest way to get from here to Cornucopia?" Steve asked. He hadn't been to that town yet, but he had memorized the map of the island. The place was in the northwest, more than a hundred miles away from Canyon City, with the Forbidden Mountains and the jungle of the Rainy Basin in between.

"For people who aren't skybax riders, that would be catching a sky galley from one of the summit villages in the mountains, but they don't run towards the north on a regular schedule," Sam replied thoughtfully.

"And you can't fly up there to ask around if one of those is likely to be around anytime soon, because skybaxes avoid the mountains?" Steve checked, desperate for any way to speed up the trip.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Steve, but that's the way it is," Sam confirmed. "Redwing will do almost anything if I ask nicely, but not this."

Steve sighed, frustrated. As much as he liked this island, right now, he would've given anything for a proper network of roads and his bike. "Well, then. I guess there's nothing to it but to start trekking towards the mountains as soon as possible. If there are no galleys, then I'll need to find a way to cross the Basin on foot, like Tony was going to, and try not to get caught, too."

"We'll set off first thing in the morning," Sam said resolutely.

"You're coming, too?" Steve was pleased and surprised to hear that. "What about your work?"

"I think this counts as an emergency. They'll manage a few weeks without me," Sam replied, casting a glance at Eliana.

"We definitely will, although I worry there might not be much you can do to help your friend," Eliana said. "Those who go to the North do not come back."

"There's a first time for everything, though," Sam countered.

Steve knew how many adventures Tony had seen in his life before this island, and he had faith in Tony's ability to make it, no matter what challenges he faced. He'd hold on to that.

"Tony's more resourceful than most. He's coming back," Steve said. "One way or the other."

*********

Tony rested the his cheek against the cool stone wall of his cell, wishing futilely that it'd clear his head.

There had to be a way out of this. He just needed to come up with one. The problem was, he still hadn't, and the more time passed, the more difficult thinking became.

He had no idea how long it had been since the Northerners had condemned him to rot in his cell without food or water. There was no light aside from the small lantern, so his perception of the time of the day was long gone. He also couldn't tell how much the constant gnawing headache was courtesy of Rumlow, who had paid him a few visits to add more bruises to his collection, and how much because of dehydration and desperate hunger. He was cold, too; his clothes had been chosen to suit the humid warmth of the jungle, not for an underground cell. The bullet graze on his shoulder, which had already been healing nicely, didn't seem any better now than it had on the way here, twinging whenever he moved his right arm.

Seren the _Deinonychus_ was still occasionally brought nourishment. Unfortunately, that wasn't on a consistent schedule—probably a deliberate trick to make things even less comfortable for the prisoners—so it didn't help with figuring out the passing hours and days. She'd tried to offer some of it to Tony, but the food was raw meat, which he wasn't quite desperate enough to try, and the water in a shallow bowl, which she couldn't get to him across the distance between the cells without spilling most of it.

"Tony?" she was calling out to him now.

Tony licked his dry, cracked lips. Even if his hunger wouldn't warrant uncooked meat of dubious origin, the thirst was getting bad enough that trying to lap moisture off the walls was starting to seem appealing.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he replied, not shifting from his place. No point in wasting the energy.

"You should reconsider," she said. "Do what they ask. There's only so long you can hold out like this."

"True, but then again, I'm no use to them if I'm dead," Tony reminded her.

They'd had this conversation a dozen times by now, and it never went anywhere.

Of course, Tony knew there was one major flaw in his own line of thinking. If he stuck to his guns until he passed out from going too long without water, and the Northerners sent someone to make sure he wasn't actually dead, there was a risk that they'd notice the sunstone in his chest. That was something he absolutely couldn't let them find.

Tony had figured out the Northerners' problem with the ancient technology the moment he'd stepped into the Vault. They lacked a power source. All those machines were built to run on a specific type of sunstone, and without one, they were useless. He'd seen transmitter stones and a beacon stone in the Vault, but no power stones, which was what they'd need. Luckily, Tony wore a lead-lined metal plate over his when not charging it or using it to power his armor; otherwise, even the broken pieces of old machinery in that room might've reacted to its presence.

The sunstones were the single most powerful piece of technology Tony had found on the island. If the Northerners got their hands on this one and realized what it could do, they'd go on the hunt for more, and then they'd soon be building all kinds of things that the peaceful Dinotopians would be defenseless against: guns and tanks, maybe even planes or submarines. He couldn't let that happen, no matter what.

The problem was that even heroic self-sacrifice wouldn't help him prevent the worst case scenario. If he held on until he died, there'd be a good chance his captors would recover the sunstone from his body and eventually figure out what it did.

The situation would be slightly better if he ran out of charge instead of dying of thirst, because then, the sunstone wouldn't do anything unless the Northerners happened to take it under the sun to replenish it. He knew he wouldn't, though—he could only last days without water, while the sunstone's charge would last for several more weeks, at minimum. The last time he'd charged it had been before he and Steve had started hiking up the Forbidden Mountains. He didn't actually know how long that gave him, since he had no power gauge and had never tested the limits of his virtually infinite power source. He had no idea what would happen once he started to run low. Normally, finding sunlight was never a problem. In the perpetual gloom of his windowless cell, it would be. Luckily, he wouldn't need it for a good while yet.

He let out a low chuckle. Here he was, comparing the merits of different ways to die. Almost like the good old days before Dinotopia. Except that back then, he'd usually had Rhodey to tell him he was being stupid.

"What's so funny?" Seren asked him.

"Nothing, really," Tony said.

Seren had been here far longer that he had. Again, due to the nature of their prison, she didn't know how long, exactly. Several months, at least. The Northerners had never even considered asking for her cooperation; they didn't think of dinosaurs as people at all. They'd captured her to experiment on her, to probe the strengths and weaknesses of her kind. Thankfully, they hadn't been doing that recently. She supposed they were between studies, undecided what to do with her next.

If Tony died, so would Seren, eventually. He had no doubt about that. She might last a long time, since dinosaurs were much hardier than humans, but the Northerners weren't going to let her go, and Tony wasn't expecting anyone to try and rescue them. His friends would want to, particularly Steve, but the locals would say no. Besides, none of them even knew where Tony was. The North was a gray zone on maps, these days.

What was worse, there were others trapped here aside from him and Seren. He'd seen the _Torosaurus_ chained in the Vault with his own eyes, and Seren had mentioned catching glimpses of other dinosaurs when she'd been moved to different parts of the castle. He wanted to set them all free, but how could he do that, when he couldn't even free himself?

Against his better judgement, he found himself drifting off, into dreams that were far more pleasant than the dismal reality. He was on his airship, long before the island, with his friends who were his family: Jarvis, Rhodey, and Pepper. Steve was there as well, so loving and perfect that it hurt, his arms around Tony as they watched the brilliant seascape that opened beyond the windows of the observation room. Sunlight and water, stretching into the horizon. Wide open skies.

"Did you build this?" Steve asked him, sounding awed, not of the view but the aircraft around them.

"Not all by myself," Tony replied modestly. "The design is mostly me, with plenty of input from Jarvis. The actual work involved several other people too."

"It's amazing," Steve said, pressing his lips against the back of Tony's head. "You're amazing."

Tony turned around to rest his cheek on Steve's shoulder. "I love you, Steve," he murmured into Steve's neck. He hadn't said it before, but this felt like the time to do it.

"I love you too," Steve said softly, running his hand up and down Tony's back.

Tony felt perfectly happy and safe and never wanted to move again.

The sound of a door creaking open pulled Tony out of the daydream. It took his sluggish brain a while to remember where he was and what was happening. The source of the noise had been one of the so-far anonymous guards bringing Seren her meager meal.

Tony thought there was something he should remember, something important, just on the tip of his tongue. Something about the dream.

It had been such a good dream. He closed his eyes for another blink and could still feel the warmth of Steve's arms around him, see the clear skies all around them beyond the windows of—

The windows of the airship that he built, because that was what he did.

He'd been so caught up in the thought that he couldn't possibly say yes to his captors' demands, desperately trying to think of ways to escape this windowless cell separated from freedom by who knew how many locked doors and guards, that he hadn't stopped to consider the most obvious way out: the one he was best at.

Just a few stretches of corridor away he'd probably find everything he could hope for to break out of here, if he just played this carefully.

Leaning heavily on a wall, he clambered up from the floor and crossed his cell to the bars. "Hey, you there!" he shouted after the already departing guard. "I need to talk to your Mayor."

*********

Bucky would've been lying if he'd said that he wasn't concerned about Stark. It had been over three days, and Stark hadn't been in perfect health to start with; he'd be feeling absolutely awful by now.

Bucky hadn't seen Stark after they'd left him locked up in his cell. He didn't have free access to the dungeon, and making up an excuse just because he was worried didn't sound like the best of ideas. He'd rather not be seen as suspicious when he was still a newcomer.

When the Mayor made an appearance in the training fields beyond the town, a place she very rarely visited, Bucky instantly guessed it would be either good news, or the worst possible. It had to be something big for her to go through the trouble of coming after him herself instead of just sending someone to fetch him.

Her smile when she beckoned him aside was definitely a good sign. Bucky left the other young resistance fighters to go on with their sparring and hurried to her.

"Afternoon, James," she greeted her.

"Good afternoon," he returned. "Do you have news about Stark?"

Her smile grew wider at his eagerness. "I do, indeed! He finally gave in and promised to work for us."

"That's great!" Bucky exclaimed, glad and relieved to hear that Stark had come to his senses before it was too late.

"From now on, you will be responsible for him," the Mayor added. "We want him to stay on our side, and Rumlow's approach would be counterproductive. I think you'll do much better."

That took Bucky by surprise—she was certainly giving him a lot of responsibility, considering how new he was. "I've got to say, I'm flattered you trust me so much," he admitted. "You barely know me. You don't even know my full name."

"I don't, but it's not our way to ask questions about anyone's past from before they got here," the Mayor said solemnly. Bucky wasn't sure if she was referring to the island, or her town, specifically. "I know enough to tell you're a good person. When you came to us, you were badly hurt, and you went through many difficult weeks. Still, the moment I told you about our situation, you put all your personal suffering behind you and wanted to help. That tells me everything I need to know."

Bucky wondered if he was blushing, because it certainly felt nice to hear that praise from her. "Thanks," he stammered.

"No need to thank me. I'm merely stating facts," she said.

"So, will Stark be free to go around the town now?" Bucky quickly changed the topic.

The Mayor's expression turned even more stern. "Oh, no. It's not time for that quite yet. It's too early to trust him. I'll need more than just his word for that. See, his past _does_ matter, because we know he was collaborating with our enemy. He'll stay in the dungeon until he's given us something useful, like he's promised. Now, you should go and take him a proper meal, and then, when he's recovered enough, he can get to work. And James?"

"Yes?" Bucky frowned at her tone, which seemed to have a warning in it.

"Be careful," the Mayor said. "I know you're like me and want to have faith in humanity and see good in everyone, but you mustn't trust him blindly."

Bucky was happy to do as she asked, fetching food and bringing it to Stark's cell. He even got his very own set of dungeon keys due to his new role as Stark's primary warden.

"You should probably start slow," he told Stark in English as he handed him the bowl of stew and a full jug of water. "Don't want to make yourself sick."

"I know. Trust me, it's not my first time facing near-death from thirst," Stark commented wryly, then went on to take a big gulp of water anyway.

"So, all that stuff in your magazine, it really happened?" Bucky had to ask. As much as he knew the others' stance on talking to the prisoner, he was too curious not to.

"Uh-huh. My chroniclers may have embellished a few details, but most of it isn't too far from the truth," Stark explained, sounding entirely honest. "You read it, then?"

"Occasionally," Bucky admitted. "When I got my hands on an old copy."

"You're from Indiana, you said?" Stark asked him. Bucky was surprised he even remembered it.

He hadn't told the other people in the resistance about his past, about growing up as an army brat, let alone his secret work by Captain America's side. Somehow, maybe just because Stark's voice reminded him of radio plays, and his resilience had made an impression, Bucky almost felt like giving him a few details, but he remembered the Mayor's words. He'd been told over and over again not to trust Stark. How stupid would he feel if he went against everyone's advice, and then got into trouble because of it?

"Well, I was born there, but grew up elsewhere," Bucky answered curtly.

Stark pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, clearly noticing the way Bucky had decided to shift gears. "The world outside is not like your friends here are telling you, you know," Stark said, without preamble, his tone still conversational. "The dinosaurs are not your enemies."

"Of course you'd say that," Bucky said, and backed away from Tony's cell. "I'll leave you to your meal. I'll be back in a few hours to escort you to the Vault, so you can get started there."


	5. Chapter 4

When it came to crossing the island from Canyon City to Cornucopia, Steve and Sam were in luck: they managed to cover in six days a distance that usually took longer than a week. It would've been even less if they hadn't needed to wait a day in the summit village called Tentpole of the Sky for the sky galley to be ready to set off. The galley's planned route hadn't been as far north as Cornucopia, but Steve had put all his authority and charisma into play, and after several passionate pleas, the galley's captain had given in.

Cornucopia was a picturesque town of small, rustic houses, surrounded by the plentiful fields and orchards that gave it its name. Jarvis had reserved an entire floor of a guesthouse for the group, which they would pay for by helping in various tasks; Jarvis's skills as a mechanic were particularly sought-after. Rhodey was already there as well, but to Steve's surprise, none of Tony's dinosaur friends were anywhere to be seen.

"They wanted to come," Jarvis explained as they climbed the stairs up to their floor. "I told them no. I know Tony wouldn't want them to. It's too dangerous. The Northerners hate dinosaurs and wouldn't hesitate to hurt them."

"So, you've already started making arrangements for our rescue mission, right? When do we set out?" Steve asked him impatiently.

Jarvis stopped at the top of the stairs—which brought them to a cozy common area with couches, embroidered pillows and wall tapestries—to cast a glance at Steve from beneath his bushy eyebrows. "We've started, yes, but let's just say you should definitely unpack that rucksack. Pepper and Natasha will need several more days to get here. The last I heard, they were all the way south on the Dragonfly Coast. Besides, we can't set out without knowing where we're going, and I don't know where to start. Most of the northern seaboard is under the Northerners' control, and even the Plains are something of a no man's land."

Steve hadn't realized the situation was so dire. The Northerners were something most Dinotopians avoided talking about, and because of that, Sam hadn't been able to give him very much detail on the topic. Still, Steve had expected that here, close to the disputed area, the locals would know more.

"There's got to be something we can do to narrow it down," Steve said.

"We'll try our best, of course," Jarvis promised. "I've sent out word to the elders of several nearby towns, calling them to a meeting on the day after tomorrow. Hopefully they'll have more insight into this. Maybe they'll also be able to spare a few volunteers to join our rescue party."

"Good," Steve said. It was a start, at least. "Now that we're here, Sam and I can start gathering supplies for the trip."

"We'll probably want steeds as well, because that'd make us a lot faster than traveling on foot," Rhodey spoke up. "I've started looking into it, but it's tricky. I'd rather not ask dinosaurs to take such a huge personal risk for someone they don't know, but there aren't many other options. I know there are herds of _Plesippus_ living on the Plains—that's a type of primitive horse—but so far I haven't heard of anyone training them for riding."

"I'm pretty sure walking will be faster than trying to train horses who've never seen a rider," Steve commented. If it were up to him alone, he'd run the whole distance to wherever they needed to go, but he knew the others wouldn't be able to keep up with him.

Combined with the occasional errands he ran for their hosts at the guesthouse, the travel preparations gave Steve something to do over the following days, so that he didn't feel like he was just sitting around doing nothing. 

Not knowing how many their group would number or how long their trip would be, Steve and the others went for excess rather than not enough and collected as much non-perishable food as they could, as well as a selection of medical supplies, in case they would be needed. Steve tried not to dwell too much on what shape they might find Tony in. He had to be all right. Of course he'd be. For all they knew, he might've escaped already and be on his way back, somewhere on the Plains.

The meeting with the local elders turned out to be a waste of time. They had no information to give on the Northerners' strongholds, and the very suggestion of sending out a rescue party was met with suspicion and reluctance.

"How can we know Stark didn't go willingly?" asked the white-haired man from Bent-Root. "I've heard rumors that he's been struggling to fit in. Perhaps he wanted to take his chances with the Northerners, instead."

Steve couldn't contain himself for long enough to get a permission to speak from the lady chairing the meeting. He leaned over the table, glaring at the man. "Because there are people in this room who actually know him! He may have had his struggles, but he loves this place and its people, human and saurian alike. He'd never join some bunch of thugs who want to harm dinosaurs!"

The chairperson, a lady from Cornucopia whose shimmering black hair contrasted her deeply lined face, frowned at Steve, but didn't scold him. "You must excuse Frederic, Steve. It's true that we don't know your friend, but I know the other people on the convoy have mentioned that he surrendered without resisting. Yes, Edwin?"

Jarvis was looking as grim as Steve felt next to him, but he'd still politely raised his hand to ask for his turn. "I don't know what hearsay you're basing that on. I've spoken to one of the leaders of the convoy, and she made it absolutely clear that he surrendered to protect everyone else in the group. That's exactly the kind of thing he would do, giving himself up to make sure no one else is hurt."

"Look, even if you're right about him," the Bent-Root representative spoke up again, sounding skeptical, "what do you suggest we do? He's been with the Northerners for over two weeks. He could be anywhere by now—for all we know, he might not even be alive anymore!"

Steve sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah, no need to remind us of that," he muttered under his breath.

As someone fresh out of a war, it was mind-boggling to Steve that the Dinotopians had so little information on their enemies. All they had to go on for planning this desperate rescue was a map with the main Northern settlements marked on it. The distance from the closest to the farthest one was over a hundred miles. They could spend months and months moving from town to town and combing the wide expanse of the Plains between them.

Natasha and Pepper finally arrived later that evening, catching Steve, Jarvis, and Rhodey in the common room of their guest house, the map spread out on the table in front of them.

"Gentlemen," Pepper said, raising her hand in a wave. She was looking somewhat tired, her clothes dirty after the many days on the road. "Any news?"

"Nothing beyond that we shouldn't expect help from the locals," Steve replied sourly.

Natasha's eyes had gone straight to the map, and she walked closer to the able to inspect it. She ran a finger along the coastline, stopping on each of the larger Northern towns in turn. "I'm not convinced this is up to date," she commented.

"It's all we've got, unless you have something better to offer," Jarvis said. Steve thought there was a strange edge to his voice, and the look he gave her was very sharp.

Natasha pulled back her hand and crossed her arms, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "I probably do," she said.

It was as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped a few degrees, a tangible tension hanging in the air, and Steve had no idea why.

"I feel like I'm missing something here," he commented.

"Someone's past is a thing we don't tend to talk about," Pepper reminded him, placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder.

Natasha glanced at Pepper, her lips curling into a small smile. "You don't need to protect me, dear. I'm fine with this," she told her, then turned to face the rest of the group again. "Like most of you, I wasn't born on this island. But unlike all of you, when I first crawled up onto the shores of Dinotopia, it was on the north coast."

"You were one of them?" Sam blurted out, visibly shocked.

"I was, because I didn't know of anything else," Natasha explained. "They told me that dinosaurs are evil. How could I know that wasn't the truth? I might've never found out that it wasn't if they hadn't decided to send me out to spy on Dinotopians. It took time, but I eventually came to realize how wrong I'd been about everything."

"And no one's blaming you for getting it wrong at first," Pepper added, sliding her hand down to lace her fingers with Natasha's.

Natasha made a face, not looking entirely reassured. "What's important is, I know a lot about the North, and who holds power over there."

"So, if you had to guess where they've taken Tony—" Steve began, hoping Natasha could fill in that particularly crucial blank.

"I would say that if he's not at Crabb Castle," Natasha pointed a finger at the name written near to the northeast corner of the island, at the foot of the cape marked as Crackshell Point, "we'll at least find someone there who knows where he is."

"Looks like we have our first destination, then," Jarvis concluded.

*********

Bucky had decided to stay as impartial as he could when it came to Stark, but he still couldn't help feeling intrigued watching the man work. Currently, Stark was cataloguing every piece of technology in the large room, from huge silvery armor plates to the tiniest cogwheels and bolts, rearranging them into more or less ordered piles and writing down what he'd found on the piece of parchment he'd been provided with.

Every now and then, the rhinoceros-like beast chained to the far wall growled at Stark, who replied in strange, guttural noises similar to what he'd used when addressing the monster in the Rainy Basin. They'd been having these brief exchanges since Stark had started working in the Vault, and it almost sounded as if the two were talking.

From what Bucky had heard, many dinosaurs were supposed to be smart, but it was hard to picture this particular four-legged brute as being more intelligent than any other wild animal. Could it be trying to give orders to Stark? He couldn't quite make himself believe that. If anything, the conversations seemed like an owner trying to soothe a dog—and Stark was definitely the owner, not the dog. At one point, he even stopped his work and walked over to pat the creature's bony crest, next to the two huge and dangerous-looking horns. Bucky had to step in, then. He was supposed to be keeping guard, after all.

"Hey, Stark," he shouted. "Did I say you could stop?"

Stark drew back his hand and cast a disappointed look at Bucky. "I've been at this for hours, surely I can take a brief break?" He sounded genuinely tired. The bruises on his face, given by Rumlow over a week ago, were still blue and purple, healing slowly.

It was difficult not to sympathize with him. He spent all his time in the dank, ill-lit dungeon, after all, and although he was getting regular meals now, they barely seemed like enough. If Bucky occasionally tried to smuggle him more than what was the prisoners' usual fare, it was just because of basic human decency, he told himself. Not because he thought Stark deserved special treatment. Definitely not because he was starting to warm up to him.

Bucky steeled his shoulders and pushed back the pity. "You'll have plenty of time to rest when I take you back to your cell," he announced, hoping it sounded convincingly stern. "Back to work, now."

Stark muttered another word at the dinosaur, patted its beak-like snout, and returned to his collection of parts.

Despite Bucky keeping his distance and carefully not showing any empathy, Stark still occasionally tried to strike up a conversation. This time it was when they were on the way back towards the cells at the end of the day.

"Look, James, I know you have your orders, but is there any chance you could let me take a brief walk outside? This constant gloom is really starting to get to me," Stark asked, an intense look in his eyes that was at odds with his hesitant tone.

"No," Bucky said firmly. "Not until you've proven you're really on our side and won't try to escape."

"It might take weeks before I can put together something that works! I swear I'll behave. I just want to see the sun again." Stark was almost pleading now.

Bucky didn't really think there would be any harm in what Stark was asking, but his orders were perfectly clear. "You'll just have to wait that much longer, then."

The conversation stayed with Bucky after he left the dungeon and Stark behind. He still managed to catch a few rays of the setting sun himself when he climbed up the stairs. Deep in thought, he made his way across the courtyard to the canteen, to join the other young resistance members who lived in the compound for the evening meal.

Convincing himself that Stark was the enemy was getting more and more difficult. Nothing that Bucky had seen of him suggested that he was bad or evil. The way he kept interacting with the two dinosaur prisoners—the large beast in the Vault and the waist-height, sharp-clawed one in the cell close to his—didn't look like someone groveling in front of his masters, but like someone showing genuine compassion for his fellow prisoners. Then again, maybe those two things would look similar.

If Stark and the dinosaurs were actually having proper conversations, Bucky had no idea what they were saying. Maybe they were making escape plans. Maybe Stark's plea to get out of the dungeon was a part of that, a move in a game Bucky didn't understand.

The resistance members who were better informed always said that Stark was devious and corrupt, valuing the lives of dinosaurs over his fellow humans. If that was true, Stark wouldn't show Bucky any mercy if their roles were reversed.

"Are all dinosaurs really as evil as everyone says?" he asked the others thoughtfully over their meal. Most of the group around him were locals, born in the north of the island: Mona and a few other young people Bucky had been sparring with regularly.

"Do you even have to ask?" replied Alban, a raven-haired youngster who couldn't be older than fifteen. "You've seen what they look like!"

As answers went, Bucky found that entirely unconvincing. "So, do you think humans that you find ugly are also evil? What about those who lack a limb?" He raised his metal arm for emphasis.

"Of course not!" Alban exclaimed, clearly affronted. "This has nothing to do with judging people based on their appearances. Humans don't have horns and claws and jaws full of sharp teeth. Dinosaurs aren't ugly, they're monsters. They're creatures who evolved to kill."

"Cows have horns too," Bucky noted.

"What's a cow?" Alban asked back, reminding Bucky that most of the animals he was familiar with didn't exist on the island. The farms around the town had herds of mammals that he thought of as cows, but they weren't actually the same species at all.

"Never mind. Something from the outside world," Bucky said, with a dismissive wave of his good hand. "Anyway, plenty of animals look scary but are actually peaceful and just defend themselves when threatened. What makes these dinosaurs so different?"

This time, it was Mona who spoke up, a stormy look on her face. "You haven't seen their cities and don't know how they run their regime. They're in charge of everything, and humans have to obey their every whim," she explained.

That was what the Mayor had said, too, but as far as Bucky knew, she'd never actually stepped foot in the enemy's cities. "And you've been there yourself, to see what it's like?" he asked Mona.

"I haven't, but my brother was, before he died in a skirmish. Those monsters killed him," she said, her voice wavering. "They're exactly as evil as you've heard, and worse."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry for your loss," Bucky said.

There was no question that Mona believed every word of what she was saying, and her brother wasn't the only resistance fighter who'd died. The group Bucky had traveled with had come close to a deadly fight with a dinosaur on the way back after capturing Stark—and yet, they'd avoided it because Stark had been able to convince the beast to leave them alone.

The more Bucky thought about the situation, the more confused he got. It felt like things didn't add up. If only he could be sure who to trust.

The young people around him were the closest thing to friends that he had, but their background was so utterly different from his that he doubted they'd ever truly understand him.

He wished Steve were here. Even though the Mayor sometimes reminded Bucky of him, she wasn't the same. Steve wouldn't have left someone without food and water for days to get them to cooperate, or kept them in a windowless dungeon for weeks, sleeping on a cold, hard stone floor. He would've found some other, better way.

*********

The first impression Tony had gotten of the Vault when he'd been taken to see the collection of ancient machinery it contained hadn't quite given him the full picture of what he had to work with. The days he spent cataloguing the parts soon made it clear that his project was going to be more challenging than he'd hoped.

There were enough materials, definitely, but on closer inspection, their quality left a lot to be desired. By the look of things, many of the pieces had been recovered from the bottom of the sea; the metal was corroded, effectively destroying many delicate mechanisms. To build what he was planning out of such poor components would take far longer than he would've liked. He'd just have to keep at it and improvise to the best of his ability when the most obvious solutions failed.

His life turned into a dull monotony of frustrating, maddeningly slow work. He still didn't know what time of day it was outside the dungeon that was now his entire world. James, who'd apparently been designated as his primary keeper, seemed to show up at regular intervals to take him to the Vault. Tony had started to think of that as morning. For all he knew, it might've as well been midnight. He missed the sun terribly, and not just because he needed it to replenish the sunstone. Spending day after day staring at the same stone walls would've driven him out of his wits if not for his building project and the company of his fellow prisoners, Seren in the cells and Pearly-eye the _Torosaurus_ in the Vault.

On some days, he was accompanied by local engineers and scientists. Those were his least favorite days, because he had to be careful about what he was doing, just in case they were smart enough to suspect duplicity. When they asked him what he was building, he told them a half-truth.

"Have you heard of strutters?" he asked them.

"Of course," replied the short blond one. "That's what most of these parts come from: dinosaur-shaped vehicles."

"Exactly. Well, I'm going to put together a functioning one for you," Tony promised.

What he didn't say was that he intended it to be an amphibious one, traveling on both land and sea, so that when he went on the run, he'd only need to make it to the shore to escape. He'd seen the sea on their way here, and he knew they couldn't be far from it, a few miles at the most.

What he didn't like about this plan was that he wouldn't be able to take the dinosaur prisoners with him, but he intended to leave the castle in such a chaos that the others could use that to slip away. He still had many details left to figure out, though, including how he was going to get the saurian prisoners out of their cells and free of their shackles. It was something he spent a lot of time thinking about while he worked on his building project.

Everything would be so much easier if he could recruit James to help him. What he'd seen of the young man made him hopeful about that. James clearly wasn't a bully like Rumlow or many of the other Northerners; he didn't take any joy in ordering Tony around. The impression Tony had gotten was that James was new here and was trying very hard to fit in and do the right thing. Unfortunately, with the completely skewed description of Dinotopia that the Northerners had given him, there was no way James could make an informed decision about right and wrong. And worse yet, since he'd been told over and over not to listen to Tony, he wasn't receptive to Tony's point of view.

Whether or not Tony managed to convince James that the Northerners were not the more humane side of this conflict, he would absolutely have to be able to talk James into taking him outside. He needed to be sure he was working with a full charge, or his escape attempt might end up being embarrassingly short, but he was stuck at an impasse. He wouldn't be allowed to leave the dungeons without showing his captors some functioning technology—and he wouldn't be able to do that without wasting even more of his remaining charge, not to mention taking the risk that the Northerners might figure out that the key to their power source problem was buried in his chest.

He should've built a power gauge into the damn thing. Sitting in his cell, he occasionally uncovered the sunstone and contemplated its sea-green glow, trying to decide if it looked fainter than usual. It was difficult to be sure.

The sunstone-powered implant inside his chest, a design based on the ancient technology and his and Jarvis's years of repulsor pump improvements, ran so smoothly that on any regular day, he didn't even notice it. He was growing increasingly aware of it now, terrified that he'd wake up and realize that the faint background thrum was missing entirely.

He felt tired all the time, these days, but there were many explanations for that which had nothing to do with the sunstone and his heart. He probably hadn't fully recovered from the blood loss back in the Rainy Basin, not with dehydration and malnutrition piled on top of it. Besides, he wasn't getting very much sleep, when all he had for bedding were a stone floor and a few thin, moth-eaten blankets.

One evening, on the way back to his cell, he asked James if he could maybe get a warmer blanket. It was nothing more than a hopeful whim, so he was surprised and pleased when James answered with "sure, I'll see if I can find you one."

Tony slept a little better that night, curled up in a wool blanket that was twice as thick as the ones he'd had before. It wasn't going to get him out of here, but it was a start.


	6. Chapter 5

Nineteen days. That was how long Tony had been missing when the rescue party finally set out; Steve had counted them, his worry growing with each one that passed. Even though words like "torture" seemed unimaginable when surrounded by the thoroughly peaceful people of Dinotopia, everyone kept mentioning how ruthless the Northerners were. Who knew what they were capable of.

After Rhodey's attempts to find non-saurian steeds had proven fruitless, the rescuers had settled on hiking. They had also stood by their original decision to keep the party human-only. Some dinosaurs had volunteered to join them, such as the Horn-heads, the two triceratopses who were Natasha and Pepper's companions on the road. Although the ceratopsians could've helped them carry more supplies, they would've also slowed down the group. Due to that and the dangers faced by any dinosaur in the North, the group had deemed that it was better for them to stay behind.

A few young and adventurous human locals had also offered their assistance, but after a long conversation, Steve and the others had turned them down, opting for a team where everyone knew each other. So there were only the six of them: Steve, Sam, Rhodey, Jarvis, Pepper, and Natasha, who was invaluable as a guide. She knew the Northerners' trade routes, and had planned their itinerary to avoid them.

Marching through the disputed ground reminded Steve of his time in the War before he'd ended up on the island. At night when they set up camp, he struggled to shake the need to make it as hard to notice as they could.

"We're not traveling with dinosaurs, so there's nothing to set us apart from everyone else in the North," Natasha reminded him. "No one will recognize us as foreigners. If we run into anyone, just let me do the talking, and it'll be fine."

They'd been through this several times before they'd left Cornucopia, Natasha telling them all they needed to know about the North and its people. It was a relief to have someone around who not only knew the situation well, but was willing to discuss it in depth, now that the first shock of her revelation had settled.

It turned out that conflict in the North was more recent than Steve had assumed: the dissidents who were now known as Northerners had split off from the Dinotopian society less than fifty years ago. The more peaceful inhabitants of the area had migrated to the towns south of the Plains, leaving behind many abandoned villages. They were now ghost towns, since even with the occasional malcontents heading up north to join the others, there weren't enough Northerners to populate the whole area.

The dissidents had cut off all contact with the rest of the island and abandoned most of the traditions. They even had their own dialect of the language, based on the typical speech of the Northern towns. Overall, Natasha had said, most of them were ordinary people, not too different from the rest of Dinotopia. Only a small clique was pushing for active violence against dinosaurs, trying to incite the rest of their people into open conflict. Many of them were recent arrivals to the island, and whatever they had been up to in the outside world, it certainly hadn't been philanthropy.

After a few uneventful days of seeing nothing more exciting than several species of primitive mammals, Steve's wariness of confrontations with the locals started to fade—but with every day that passed, his concern for Tony only grew worse.

Twenty days. Twenty-one. Three weeks that Tony had been alone in the hands of the enemy. Natasha estimated that they would need at least another four days to reach Crabb Castle, and they didn't even know if Tony was there.

Wherever he was, Steve hoped and prayed that Tony could hold on until they found him.

*********

After who knew how many days or weeks, Tony's building project was nearly finished. If only his other project had been equally successful. Even though James seemed sympathetic and made the occasional friendly gesture, like bringing Tony an extra slice of bread, or warm water and a bar of soap for the rare opportunity to clean himself up, Tony still hadn't been able to convince him to let him out of the dungeon.

Having a working escape vehicle meant very little when he had no way to power it. He knew for a fact that he wouldn't get anywhere with the amount of energy he had left. The sunstone definitely looked dimmer that it used to, its glow barely discernible in the gloom of his cell.

His one last hope was that once he told his captors the strutter was finished, they'd take him outside for a test drive, and he could improvise his escape. He had rigged some of the technology in the Vault to explode with enough force to bring down half the room, which he could set on a timer. That should provide a fine distraction. He just wasn't sure how fast his sunstone would regain enough of a charge to power the escape vehicle. It could easily turn into a worst case scenario that would have him trapped in the midst of his enemies, caught with his pants down, or rather, his shirt off, the secret he'd been so careful to protect revealed to them all.

Even if this last-resort plan worked, it would only allow him to free himself. The dinosaur prisoners would still be stuck in the dungeon. No matter how much he'd racked his brain for a solution to freeing them, all he could come up with hinged on James. He knew there was an obvious alternative to having James on his side: he might be able to take the younger man by surprise, knock him out and steal the keys to the cells from him. But that was something he didn't want to do, because it would feel like lowering himself to the level of his enemies. Besides, he wasn't sure if he could pull it off, considering how weak and tired he constantly felt.

In the end, his indecision about what to do rendered all his planning and thinking pointless: he ran out of time.

It happened when he was, as usual, up to his waist inside the machinery of the strutter, working on making sure that each compartment was sealed and watertight. It wasn't dramatic; he didn't pass out and collapse to the ground, or get assailed by chest pains. Instead, he started feeling faint and then realized that something was wrong.

The second wave of dizziness was probably more mental than physical, with the panic overtaking him at the thought that the sunstone was dead, leaving his ailing heart without support.

He pulled out of the strutter and sat down on the ground. The machinery was blocking James's line of sight, so he wouldn't instantly notice that Tony had stopped working. He closed his eyes, leaning the back of his head against the structure behind him, and tried to take deep breaths. The air felt too thin, and he couldn't tell if that was just in his head.

He buried his face in his hands. He wanted to scream out his despair; he felt on the verge of tears, at the end of his rope. He had no idea what to do next.

He didn't know what would happen, or how long he had left. In the past, he'd had many conversations about his heart issues with his personal physician, Doc Kyna—a _Troodon_ who was among the smartest people he had met. She had suggested that since the sunstone implant worked so well and he'd been in such good health after he'd installed it, it was possible that his heart was in better shape than it had been in decades. Considering that he was still conscious, that was probably true, but he knew he would never be entirely healthy. He might have hours, maybe a day or two, if he was lucky, but certainly no more than that.

The strutter would walk on dry land, if he somehow miraculously managed to power it, but it wasn't fully waterproofed. He'd need at least another full day of work to finish it, and he didn't think he had that long.

His best hope of escaping, and indeed of just surviving, still rested on James. If he could get outside soon, he would stand a chance. He'd be fine and back on track with his plan.

He wasn't just going to give up. He'd have to try once more. Maybe today would be the day when James changed his mind.

Tony got up and walked around the strutter, keeping one hand on it for balance.

James looked surprised to see Tony approaching him. He straightened his posture where he stood guard in front of the door. "Something amiss, Stark?"

"Yes," Tony said, without wasting time or breath. "I'm not feeling good. Any chance we could call this a day?"

James gave him a scrutinizing frown. "You do seem pale." He pulled out a pocket watch to check the time—something to set apart the North from the rest of Dinotopia, where regular timepieces were rare. "It's getting late anyway. Might as well."

There was a shuffling sound in the opposite corner of the room, and Pearly-eye called out to Tony. "What's going on?"

"Nothing to worry about. I'll see you again soon," Tony responded quickly, keeping the words as casual as he could.

Tony didn't want to start a conversation with Pearly-eye when it would make James even more suspicious—he was already looking skeptical, his frown deepening, his eyes going from Tony to the dinosaur.

"He's just concerned," Tony said quickly.

"Is he, now," James returned, clearly not convinced. He took hold of Tony's arms and twisted them behind his back to shackle his wrists as usual. "Come on, then. Let's get you to your cell for a nap."

Tony waited until they'd left behind the Vault and the guard posted outside its sturdy door before he speaking up again. Walking felt much more exhausting than it had any right to. When he was sure the guard wouldn't hear them, he stopped to rest against the nearest wall, breathing hard.

"You alright?" James asked, hovering close by, like he couldn't decide whether he should push Tony to keep going or place a hand on his back to support him.

Tony didn't try to cover how weary he felt; hopefully, that would work to his advantage. "I'm really not." He looked James in the eye, trying to put all the intensity he could into it. "I need to get outside. It's crucial. I swear I won't try to flee. Honestly, I couldn't run even if I wanted to."

James crossed his arms, flesh and metal, and averted his gaze, like he couldn't bear to face Tony. "How's that supposed to help?"

"I can't tell you," Tony repeated.

"Then I can't let you out," James said, his jaw set.

If only Tony could be sure he could trust James—then he could explain the whole thing, and he was willing to bet James would help him. But even the slight risk of him telling the others about the sunstone would be too much of a gamble. Tony would rather die than have the Northerners find out about it. If he got outside, he'd have to be very careful how he went on about exposing it to the sun. If. It wasn't looking very likely at all.

"Move along," James added, placing his good hand on Tony's back to guide him towards the cells. It was firm, but not entirely ungentle.

*********

Whatever was wrong with Stark, it seemed serious. The brief walk through the corridors had left him leaning on Bucky and panting like he'd run a marathon. A small, mistrustful voice at the back of Bucky's mind kept reminding him that this could all be a ploy. Maybe Stark had planned something with the big beast in the Vault, and was feigning illness to make Bucky more sympathetic. Then again, Bucky couldn't imagine how Stark could possibly be faking the ghostly pale shade of his complexion.

As Bucky ushered Stark into his cell and unshackled his wrists, Stark turned around and grabbed Bucky by the sleeves.

"James, I'm begging you, and that's not something I do often," he insisted, his clear blue eyes glimmering with despair. "I need your help. I don't have long left."

"I could bring a doctor to take a look at you," Bucky suggested. Surely the Mayor would agree to that, because if Stark truly was badly ill, he wouldn't be able to work until he got better—and if he wasn't, a doctor would be able to tell.

Stark let go of Bucky and took a few stumbling steps backwards. "No, please don't. They can't help, and that would be very bad," he said hurriedly, his eyes wide, as if the very idea was something shocking that hadn't even crossed his mind.

"You're not making any sense!" Bucky exclaimed, frustrated. Insisting that getting outside would help while actual medical attention wouldn't was so bizarre, it definitely sounded like a scheme. "How do you expect me to help you when you're refusing to explain what's wrong?"

"I'll tell you everything when I know for sure I can trust you," Stark said.

Bucky scoffed. "When _you_ can trust _me_? Tell me, what reasons have you given me to believe a single word you say?"

Stark sat down on the floor in what looked like a half-controlled slump, leaning his back against the nearest wall. "You should rather be asking yourself what reasons your friends here have given you," he noted, his eyes still fixed on Bucky.

"They rescued me from the sea. I wouldn't be alive without them," Bucky said. That was what he'd kept telling himself in his moments of doubt; surely they had to be good to have done all that for him.

"They did it because it served their purposes. It gained them another soldier for their misguided cause," Stark countered. Although he spoke softly, there was a determination in his tired voice that sounded so honest and somber, it was very difficult to believe it could be an act. "Can you name one person here who's ever even tried to have a proper conversation with a dinosaur? They're treated like animals, even though they're just as smart as us. Good people don't do that."

Bucky couldn't deny that some of the actions of his fellow resistance members made him uneasy, and he didn't agree with the way they chose to treat any of their prisoners, human or dinosaur. Still, if they were telling the truth, Stark's dinosaur masters were even worse.

It was the same old dilemma: Stark's word against those of Bucky's new friends. Still, one thing was clear. No matter who was telling the truth, if Stark wasn't faking this illness, then helping him would be the right choice.

"I'll see what I can do. You just rest, and hopefully you'll feel better soon," Bucky said, leaving Stark's speech without comment, and backed out of the cell. He made sure to lock the door behind him.

Embarrassingly, he felt relieved once he got into the corridor, away from Stark's demanding, desperate gaze. Still, his mind was a tumult of uncertainty.

He couldn't just wait and do nothing. 

Outside, it was getting late, sunset pinks and oranges coloring the sky. Most people would be gathering for dinner around now, those with families in their homes, the young people like Bucky at the canteen. He wasn't hungry at all. He had too much on his mind.

Preparing for disappointment, because the Mayor would probably have left her offices for the day, Bucky walked across the castle to her door. The guard was still there. He might be in luck.

"Is the Mayor still in?" Bucky asked.

"Yes, but she'll be heading home any minute now," the guard answered. "Whatever it is, you should wait for tomorrow."

"It's urgent," Bucky said.

Before the guard had time to usher Bucky away, the door opened, revealing the Mayor herself. "James. This is a surprise," she commented, eyebrows raised. "What brings you here?"

"It's about Stark," Bucky told her. "Can you spare a few minutes? It's important."

"Hm. I suppose you could join me for dinner, I have no company today and the chef always makes much more than I can eat on my own," she offered.

That was an honor that many of Bucky's friends would envy; usually the Mayor dined with her assistants or the highest-ranking officers in the resistance. On some other day, Bucky might've felt flattered, but today, when he wasn't sure about anything, he was just glad that he could have the time to discuss his conundrum with her.

"Thank you, ma'am, that would be great," he said.

The Mayor's living quarters, which Bucky hadn't seen before, were as impeccable and carefully decorated as her office. The furniture was all very stylish and not overly ornamental. There were paintings on the walls showing bustling cityscapes that seemed reminiscent of the outside world—Bucky could've sworn one was a depiction of Manhattan at the turn of the century.

The dining room was smaller than Bucky would've expected, with a table that couldn't seat more than six. It was now laid out for just one person, but the Mayor's butler soon hurried to bring plates and cutlery for Bucky as well.

"So, tell me, what do you have on your mind? I can see you're troubled," the Mayor asked as they waited for the soup to arrive.

Bucky took a moment to consider how to go on about this, then decided that he should probably tell her the whole story to get her informed opinion. So, he described the situation in detail over the start of their meal: how Stark had asked to be allowed outside several times along his captivity, how he'd seemed to fall ill today, and still insisted that a respite from the dungeon would be the only solution. Bucky also mentioned his own view that sending a doctor or at least one of the nurses to see him would make a lot of sense.

The Mayor listened to him with a thoughtful expression, only interrupting briefly when she wanted more details. Once he was finished, she studied him a moment longer before speaking up. "James, if you have any doubts about your ability to handle your duties, you should tell me."

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, taken aback by her reaction.

"If you stop and think about this story of yours, it's obvious what must be going on," the Mayor pointed out. "Of course he's planning on fleeing, one way or the other. What else could this be?"

When she put it like that, it did seem glaringly obvious, and Bucky had no other explanation to offer her. Still, he couldn't shake the memory of Stark's wan face and the despair in his eyes. "I don't know, but he really looked rough. If there's any chance that there's some truth to what he's saying—" he began.

"Then all we need to do is wait and see," she finished his sentence for him. "I'm sure he will miraculously recover if you just ignore this for a few days. And as I said, if you've grown too fond of him, I can give this task to someone else."

"No, it's fine, I can handle it." Bucky tried his best not to sound too rushed with his reply. He knew that if she assigned someone else as Stark's keeper, Bucky would have lost his best opportunity to learn more about the rest of Dinotopia—and if Stark wasn't lying, he might die. Bucky didn't trust anyone else to spare much thought to his well-being.

"If you're sure," the Mayor said, not looking entirely convinced. "Perhaps we'll sleep over this and reconsider the situation tomorrow."

"You'll do as you see fit, of course," Bucky said.

He'd hoped that this conversation would dispel the doubts Stark had raised in him, but they remained as strong as ever. He thought of Stark's words about how the actions of Bucky's new friends were not those of good people, and of how callously the Mayor had brushed aside Bucky's concerns for Stark. Again, he thought of Steve, and tried to imagine what Steve would've done in her place. He knew Steve would've been suspicious of Stark, just as the Mayor was, but he would probably also have wanted to make sure he wasn't putting Stark's life at risk.

Bucky sat through the rest of the dinner making awkward small talk and avoiding the topic of his troublesome prisoner. Afterwards, he retreated to the room he shared with three other young resistance members even more unsure of what to do than he had been before meeting the Mayor.


	7. Chapter 6

Even though Steve had known, in theory, that crossing the Plains would take at least a week, he hadn't appreciated just how long it would feel when the landscape stayed so similar all the way through. He'd done a lot of hiking in the past few months, practically traversing the entire island, but none had been as monotonous as this. Steering clear of the shore meant that instead of a single glimpse of the ocean, all they saw day after day was an endless sea of grass.

The most exciting thing to happen on the Plains was running into a small group of locals on the fifth day. They were also on foot, with rucksacks that seemed nearly as heavy as Steve's, and just like Natasha had promised, the encounter didn't give them any trouble. She greeted the travelers in a dialect of Dinotopian so different from what Steve knew that he could barely understand half of it, and once again, he was immensely grateful that she was with them. After they were done exchanging pleasantries, each group continued on their way. 

Later, Natasha explained that the locals had been on the way to the forested foothills of the Backbone Mountains to collect some valuable herbs that didn't grow in the North. That definitely didn't sound too sinister.

As they approached their destination, they finally started heading northwards. On the evening of the sixth day, over a dinner of bean stew and stale bread, Natasha announced that they would reach Crabb Castle by the following afternoon.

"Now, I know that all of you would like to march in through the town gates and interrogate every local you see about Tony's whereabouts," Natasha went on after everyone had expressed their joy about the good news, "but I think a more subtle approach would make more sense. I could go alone and ask around before we give ourselves away."

"Is that a good idea, you going in without any backup?" Steve asked.

"I know the place and the people. I'll be perfectly safe, and I'll be more efficient when I don't need to worry about any of you standing out in the crowd," Natasha said, as convincingly level-headed as always.

Steve's gut instinct was, just as Natasha had suggested, that they should all hurry ahead and try to find out as much as they could, as fast as possible, but she was probably right. The Northerners would recognize Steve as an outsider as soon as he opened his mouth, and even if he managed to question someone, he'd be lucky if he understood the answer he got.

In the end, with varying degrees of reluctance, everyone accepted Natasha's proposal, which meant that on the next day, once the imposing outline of the walled town had appeared on the horizon, it was time to part ways.

"Keep heading directly to the north," Natasha instructed them. "You'll reach the shore in around an hour. There are plenty of good places to set up camp amidst the cliffs, just try to pick one that doesn't look too frequently used so you don't risk running into locals having a picnic."

Pepper was eyeing her with concern, and Steve couldn't blame her—she must be worried that Natasha might go missing, too. "How will you find us when you return from your reconnaissance mission?" she asked.

"There's a huge rock formation that looks like a trident. It's visible from a distance, you won't miss it. Set a watch close to its foot, and I'll meet you there," Natasha promised.

She handed over some of the heavier items in her rucksack, kissed Pepper goodbye, waved at the others, and set off towards the town at a jog.

Steve stared after her for as long as he could see her, and then at the silhouette of Crabb Castle. It felt foolish to just walk past it, when Tony might be there right now, but the plan was the plan. He kept walking.

As they got closer to the shore, the grassy landscape began to change, turning more rocky and cragged. Soon, they were surrounded by impressive cliffs and heard the whisper of waves. The landmark Natasha had described was as easy to find as she'd promised: a trio of rock pillars sticking up from the sea, the middle one over a hundred feet in height. Well-worn tracks leading down to the water showed where generations of visitors had sought the best views.

They took their time looking for a suitable campsite. Since they were so close to an enemy town, it would be crucial to find a place that was sheltered and had good lookout points close by. Once they'd found such a spot, Steve volunteered to return to the rendezvous to wait for Natasha. He knew she probably wouldn't be joining them for several hours, but he wanted to get the news from her as soon as possible.

He made his way back to the trident, followed a path to the water and scrambled up to perch on a less formidable rock shoreside. From there, he could see everyone approaching the area, but wouldn't instantly be seen by anyone.

Then he waited, and waited, and waited some more.

The place was stunning in a rugged way, almost like a charcoal drawing: the landscape consisted of nothing but black rock and the sea, dark aside from the foamy white tips of waves. Their whoosh mixing with the cries of flying creatures that Steve couldn't name—perhaps some distant relatives of Sam's skybax companion—made for a soothing soundscape as well, but Steve was far too tense for it to settle his nerves.

He kept checking the time. The minutes were inching forwards so very slowly. Even looking at the watch reminded him of Tony: it had been damaged by the explosion and the sea water when Steve had ended up on the island, and Tony had fixed it for him.

He missed Tony so, so much. The thought of losing him was unbearable. Steve had barely come to terms with the loss of Bucky, and in that, having Tony by his side had helped, even if he had mostly avoided speaking of the topic. The emotions were still too raw, the memories too recent. Of course, if the worst came to pass with Tony, at least he wouldn't be facing it alone. He had other friends, now, like the group he was traveling with. They were all good people, and he was glad for their company, but it wasn't the same. Tony had become so much more than a friend. Steve had pictured them spending the rest of their lives together; a future brighter than he'd ever dared to imagine for himself.

The sun was starting to set, the sky blossoming into a magnificent display of colors. Its beauty also felt like a warning. Once it grew dark, the cliffs would become precarious to navigate. Steve hadn't even taken a torch with him. Natasha hadn't said anything about how long she'd be gone. What if she wouldn't be back until morning?

He was trying to decide between returning to camp before it got too dark, and sitting on this rock through the night just to be sure he didn't miss her, when he caught sight of movement in the waning light. His heart leaped.

"Hello?" Natasha called out, her voice raised to carry over the waves.

"Over here!" Steve shouted back. He hurried to clamber down from his rock as she crossed the shore to meet him.

"They have him," Natasha told him before he'd even asked, no doubt guessing that he was desperate for news.

"He's there, in the city?" Steve checked, feeling more hopeful than he had in weeks. They hadn't come all this way for nothing. Tony was only a few miles away.

"The people I talked to told me he was brought in around three weeks ago," Natasha confirmed. "No one had seen him since, but there are rumors that he's building something for the Northerners."

"He wouldn't," Steve objected.

"He might, if he had no other way to save himself. It doesn't mean he's planning on ever finishing whatever he's working on," Natasha said.

That, he might do, Steve had to admit: like Tony's friends always said, he was a survivor, and if survival had required feigning obedience, he would have gone for it. "Well, whatever's going on, it won't matter anymore," Steve said. "We're going to get him out of there tonight. We should go tell the others and start preparing for the operation."

"We should, but Steve," Natasha said, both her voice and her expression somber, "we can't rush this. Crabb Castle isn't just the largest town in the North, it's where they train their guerillas. They'll outnumber us a dozen to one. We'll have to plan this rescue very carefully, or we'll end up imprisoned together with Tony."

*********

"You can't give in, Tony," Seren said. The way her words came faster and the pitch of her voice rose with concern made the Saurian version of Tony's name almost unrecognizable.

"It's not really up to me," Tony told her.

He couldn't blame her for being concerned. He was long past concern, himself; he was downright terrified. Every breath took effort, with the relentless ache and tightness in his chest.

"There is a time for letting go," Seren replied, speaking more slowly; the formality in her pronunciation suggested that she was quoting some Dinotopian saying Tony wasn't familiar with. "That is when you are old and know that you have lived a good life. Your time is not yet, Tony Stark."

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but if my heart stops, I can't will it into starting again, no matter how much I want to," Tony said. It was melodramatic and unfairly irritable, but he had no patience left for platitudes.

Seren made a non-verbal growl, half shocked, half frustrated, and said nothing else.

Tony bit his lip, berating himself. He didn't want to push away the last person he'd ever talk to. "I'm sorry, Seren. That wasn't nice of me," he said placatingly. "It's just—honestly, I'm scared. I don't want to give up, but there's nothing I can do."

He was met by silence broken only by the sound of water dripping down the stone walls and his own strained breathing. He could only imagine how loud the wheezy undertone would be in the sensitive ears of a _Deinonychus_.

"If James shows up again, I'll try to grab the keys from him and throw them to you," he tried again. "I don't know if I'll manage, but I promise to do my best."

He doubted he could even stand up, let alone knock out a younger, healthier man, but he'd still go for it if he got the chance. It was the only thing even distantly resembling a plan that he could think of when everything else had failed.

He should've made contingencies. He'd put too much faith in his ability to win James over. He had thought he could count on the charisma that had been so central to his career, and it had let him down worse than ever. Perhaps he'd lost it over the years he'd spent as a recluse among Dinotopians, with only his close friends as company.

At length, Seren spoke up again, softly, hesitantly. "I'm scared, too. I don't want to lose you. Maybe it's selfish. I was alone for such a long time, and if you—if you're no longer here, then I'll be alone again."

"It's not selfish. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you more." Tony really had thought he could, and he'd failed. It was his worst regret. When he was gone, the dinosaurs would still be prisoners. He'd done nothing to change their life for the better.

"You gave me hope. That's something I hadn't felt in ages," Seren said, as if she could guess what Tony was thinking. "If only I could give you some of it back now that you need it."

"It helps that you're here, so that whatever happens, I won't have to face it on my own," Tony said. He was truly sorry that she'd have to witness his last breaths, because he knew the memory wouldn't be an easy one to live with. He didn't mention it aloud. The reminder wouldn't make her any happier.

"I'm not going anywhere," Seren reassured him.

They fell into silence again. With the tension between them dissipated, it was amicable, not awkward.

Tony considered lying down. It was an inviting prospect. He was tired beyond words. Everything felt leaden: his limbs, his thoughts, his heartbeat, the very air in his lungs. He knew from experience, though, from decades ago when he'd last been this badly off, that being horizontal wouldn't help. On the contrary, it would make breathing even more difficult. He grabbed his blankets and tried to find a comfortable position sitting in the corner instead, with the thick quilt over his shoulders and the thinner ones wrapped around his legs.

He was so terribly tired, but he knew that if he let himself sleep, he might never wake up again.

He found himself thinking of that time, an eternity ago, when he'd still been new to this cell, and he'd also been struggling to stay conscious. He'd fallen asleep and dreamed of Steve.

He missed Steve so, so much; it was an ache deeper than any other, a hollowness within the heavy weight of his failing heart. As grateful as he was that Seren was with him, he would've given anything to have Steve here instead—but perhaps it was for the best that Steve didn't have to see this.

"Tony. Tony? Tony!" Seren's voice cut through Tony's thoughts, growing shrill again. She must've been asking many times already.

Tony had to cough to clear his throat before he managed to answer her, still sounding stifled. "What is it?"

"Please, hold on," she said. "Just until someone arrives. Maybe they can help you."

"Maybe," Tony mumbled.

He knew they couldn't.

He tried to heed her words, he really did. He tried to focus on the idea of making that one last escape attempt so that he could at least say he went down fighting.

He was just so tired.

Several more times, he found himself sinking into a semi-conscious daze, to be roused by Seren's increasingly agitated voice. He knew it was a losing battle; each time, it was more difficult to crawl back into wakefulness.

He thought of Steve. Of falling asleep in Steve's arms, warm and safe and as happy as he had ever been.

He could rest. Everything would be all right.

He dozed off, the sound of Seren calling his name fading away.

*********

Bucky stared at the bottom of the bunk bed above him and listened to his roommates' snoring. He couldn't sleep, and he wasn't even sure he wanted to. He couldn't stop thinking about the day's events and about everything Stark had told him over the past month. The notion that everything he'd come to believe after he'd woken up in Crabb Castle might be a lie weighed heavily on his mind.

He'd originally accepted everything his rescuers had told him without question. Looking at all of it in a different light, he wasn't sure about anything anymore. He'd been told the dinosaurs were terrible beasts, and he'd believed that, because it fit what he'd heard about them before the island, and what he'd seen of them here—but the dinosaurs he'd been introduced to had been held captive and turned into training targets. They'd had to choose between fighting or death.

The Mayor was a perfect personification of Bucky's mental conflict. She gave the impression of being a compassionate leader who believed in the good of humanity and only did unsavory things when there was no other way. Still, she kept resorting to abuse when other options were available, and her attitude seemed callous not just towards the dinosaurs, but towards Stark as well.

It was difficult to admit that he might've let himself be misled so badly; it was both embarrassing and infuriating. Steve would've been ashamed of him.

If he truly had been working for the wrong side all along, he had to make the right choice now while he still could. He was afraid he'd been so overly honest with the Mayor that she'd grown wary of him. Tomorrow, she might decide to take away his keys to the cells. With them, he'd lose any hope of helping Stark, and of learning the whole truth about Dinotopia and the resistance.

He couldn't take that risk.

His mind made up, he got out of bed as noiselessly as he could and crossed the slumbering town to the dungeon. He felt like he should be sneaking around on tiptoe, even though he knew there was no need for that. He was considered one of the regular wardens, and the guards at the dungeon entrance just nodded at him as he passed them. He did his best to keep his face neutral, ignoring the sweat on his palms.

He hoped he hadn't wasted too much time trying to decide what to do. It hadn't been that many hours since he'd left Stark in his cell, but whatever had struck him had seemed so sudden and severe that Bucky was nevertheless afraid he might be too late.

When he reached the cells, he was greeted by loud chatter from the cell across from Stark's—the small but vicious-looking dinosaur prisoner was acting more agitated than Bucky had ever seen it. It grabbed the bars of its cell with its clawed hands and nodded repeatedly, as if gesturing towards Stark's cell with its snout.

Like a punch to the gut, it struck Bucky that this dinosaur seemed to be expressing more concern towards Stark than any human he'd talked to recently. Even more worried than before, but also more convinced that he was doing the right thing, he hurried to unlock Stark's cell.

Stark was sitting in the corner where the stone walls met, his eyes closed, his head resting against one wall. If not for all the noise the dinosaur was making, Bucky might've thought he was just taking a nap. As he got closer, he could tell Stark wasn't breathing right. Each slow, labored gasp came with a decidedly unhealthy rattle and wheeze, worse than any snoring he'd ever heard.

Bucky caught hold of Stark's shoulder, giving it a light shake. "Stark. Wake up." Although there was no one around to hear him except Stark and the dinosaur, he found himself lowering his voice conspiratorially.

Stark didn't react. His head lolled forwards, his chin falling against his chest, and instead of another breath, there was a soft huff followed by ominous silence.

One thing was for sure: Stark definitely hadn't been faking he was ill.

Panic washing over him, Bucky pushed Stark's chin up with his metal hand and patted his cheek sharply with the good one. "Come on, Tony. I need you to wake up," he coaxed. "Please."

Finally, to Bucky's profound relief, Stark began to stir, coughing, his eyelids fluttering—and then, he rasped out the very last word Bucky would've expected to hear.

"Steve?"

Shocked, Bucky sat back, hands falling on his lap. "What?" he blurted out.

He must've heard it wrong. Besides, even if he hadn't, it didn't have to mean anything. Steve wasn't an uncommon name. He hadn't met any Steves or Stevens or Stephans in Crabb Castle, but surely, there had to be many people with a similar name on the island.

Stark seemed to be struggling to catch his breath, one hand clutching at his chest. His eyes, though glazed with pain, found Bucky, and he made a small "ah" of disappointment.

"Who's Steve?" Bucky had to ask.

The expression on Stark's face shifted to what looked like a different kind of anguish. "Someone very dear to me," he replied, his voice sounding slightly better, hoarse as it still was.

"I recently lost someone with that name," Bucky said.

He'd barely told anyone here about it: he'd mentioned that he'd lost a friend in the crash, but he hadn't mentioned Steve's name. He wasn't sure why he was telling Stark. This had to be a coincidence, and he shouldn't let it ruffle him.

The odd thing was, this coincidence seemed to be just as upsetting to Stark. He straightened up against the wall, his eyes wide, any trace of drowsiness gone from his face. "You—oh, God. I should've—You're Bucky, aren't you?"

Steve's name had been easy enough to explain away as happenstance, but for this, Bucky had no explanation. He hadn't spoken his nickname aloud one single time since he'd woken up here. No matter how smart and devious Stark was, there was no way he could've found out that name, if not from Steve.

"You know Steve Rogers?" Bucky asked back.

"Yes. I do. Steve Rogers, who used to be Captain America," Stark replied emphatically. He reached out to take Bucky's good hand between both of his. "Bucky. He thought you were gone. He missed you so much." He stopped to catch his breath, his hands clasping Bucky's fingers tightly. "Help me. We can go back to him. Together."

Bucky could barely believe it, but Stark had to be telling the truth. The only person who could've told him that Steve was Cap was Steve himself.

Steve was on the island. Steve was alive.

Bucky really had made the right choice. It was a sobering thought that if he had waited until the morning, he might never have learned any of this. 

"I'd already decided to help, that's why I came down here," Bucky said. "So, what can I do? Will you finally tell me what's wrong with you?"

Stark pulled back his hands and nodded. "Heart failure. I have a device that helps, but I need sunlight to charge it."

That certainly sounded serious. Although Bucky still didn't understand why Stark hadn't told this earlier, at least it explained why he'd been asking to be allowed outside, but—Bucky's recently ignited hope gave way to a sudden sinking feeling. "Oh, no," he murmured. "Is there nothing else that will help? Sunrise is several hours away."

"There isn't," Stark said. Surprisingly, he didn't appear as demoralized as Bucky felt. He seemed determined, and when he spoke, his voice was stronger, even if his sentences were terse with the lack of breath. "But I'm not the only one who needs help." He turned his face away from Bucky, towards the cell across from his, where the dinosaur had fallen quiet. Maybe it was listening to this conversation. "They've done nothing wrong," Stark went on. "None of them deserve to be here."

Bucky had only been thinking about Stark. He hadn't considered the dinosaur prisoners. He didn't understand them; the truth was, even if it was looking more and more likely that they weren't the monsters he'd assumed them to be, he still found them intimidating. "You're sure it's not going to attack me if I let it free? I've been no nicer to them than the other guards," he asked sheepishly.

"Seren won't attack you. She's thankful you've made the right call," Stark assured him.

"Okay," Bucky said. If he was going to trust Stark from here on out, he'd also have to believe him in this. He'd do it, no matter how scary it was. "I've got the keys to that cell, but I know she's not the only dinosaur here. How can the two of us free all of them?"

"The three of us," Stark corrected. "I have a plan. You'll need to help me walk, though."


	8. Chapter 7

Since the day Steve had first woken up on Dinotopia, in Tony's guest room, he had spent his time learning everything about the island and exploring its many wonders. It had been lovely: months of enjoying great company and exquisite views, and meeting some of the most extraordinary people he had encountered in his life, both human and dinosaur. It had been like the most amazing holiday, but now, he was back in action, and he had to admit that as much as he'd enjoyed those leisurely months, he had missed this. There was a particular excitement to being on a mission, with the high stakes and the tangible danger, that nothing else could surpass.

Sneaking towards Crabb Castle in the dark, Steve felt like Captain America again.

Their plan relied on the cover of the night and on the town not being too heavily guarded. Natasha hadn't been able to get detailed information regarding the enemy's defenses, but they were likely to be minimal. The Northerners wouldn't expect the pacifistic Dinotopians to attack them, and the town wasn't even close to any disputed areas or terrain inhabited by dinosaurs.

What Natasha had been able to tell them was that the dungeons where the Northerners were probably keeping Tony had two entrances. The usual way in would be difficult to reach, since it lay inside the perimeter wall, but there was a second, larger tunnel connecting to them with an opening directly in the wall. Located behind the town when looking at the main gates, it was perfect for their purposes. They'd try to get as close as they could without being noticed, subdue the guards and break in. It shouldn't be too difficult.

The most challenging part would be once they reached the dungeons. They didn't know the layout of the tunnels or where to find Tony there, so they'd just have to improvise. The longer they had to spend looking for him, the more likely they were to be detected. 

Steve was prepared to tear the place down with his bare hands if that was what it took.

They'd left Jarvis behind to hold the fort at the camp, although they didn't expect any trouble there in the middle of the night. Steve and Natasha were the most skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and their part would be to climb the walls and take down any enemies patrolling the walkways on top. Rhodey, Pepper, and Sam would approach the gates to the tunnel directly and take down the guards there.

The surroundings of the town were mostly shrouded in darkness, and they made sure to avoid any areas reached by light from within the walls. As they got closer, they split up, with the trio heading for the gates keeping a direct course, Natasha veering to the left and Steve to the right, now moving at a jog.

The town wall was built of large blocks of stone that must've come from the cliffs by the shore. The seams between them offered plenty of good handholds, and scaling the twenty or so feet of it gave Steve no trouble at all. He was sure Natasha would be just as quick on her side. Her background before she'd ended up on the island was still a mystery to Steve, but based on what he'd seen of her, she was as fast and agile as anyone he knew.

Steve swung himself over the parapet and onto the narrow walkway—and directly into the path of a guard, whose eyes went comically wide with surprise. Without losing a second, Steve sprung on her and aimed a heavy blow to her temple, stunning her so that she landed on her knees. Steve gagged her before she could utter a word of warning to anyone else nearby, and bound her arms and legs. She regained her senses soon and started to squirm in protest, but Steve had played this game before, and she wasn't getting anywhere. He found a shadowed nook in the wall where he could leave her so that she wouldn't be discovered right away.

Pressing himself close to the wall, Steve observed the surroundings carefully to see if there were any other guards around, but the walkway seemed perfectly quiet. He started following the walkway towards Natasha's direction. When he heard the sound of footsteps, he froze in place, holding his breath. The footfalls were very soft and cautious, so much so that anyone with regular hearing might not have picked them up at all. He risked a quick glance at the approaching person, and to his relief, found it to be Natasha.

He stepped away from the wall, revealing himself to her, and she waved a hand in greeting, walking until she was close enough to whisper into his ear. "I met one guard. You?"

"Also one," Steve said. "You think there are more?"

"Probably nowhere close to us. I can stay up here and keep an eye on the situation. You go join the others," Natasha suggested, her hand on his bicep.

She knew how badly Steve wanted to get to Tony, and he was grateful to her for considering that. "Thanks. Let us know if there's any trouble."

So far, things had gone as smoothly as they could've hoped, and Natasha's warnings of an army of Northerners seemed unwarranted.

Not wanting to waste a second, Steve climbed over the parapet and jumped down. It was a high leap, but the grass was soft, and he landed with a graceful roll, again feeling that exhilaration of being out and putting his talents to good use. He got to his feet and crossed the distance to the gates at a run. The night remained quiet, without a single sign that anyone had raised an alarm about their stealthy attack.

Two guards were sitting propped against the wall, carefully bound, and Pepper, Rhodey, and Sam were scrutinizing the still-closed gates to the dungeon tunnel, conversing in sharp whispers. The gates were a pair of sturdy wooden doors, wide and high enough for all but the largest of dinosaurs to pass through, and as Steve focused on them in the lantern light, he saw that there was no visible lock on them.

"We can't get through," Sam told Steve, his hushed voice full of frustration. "We think the gates can only be opened from the inside."

Steve swore under his breath. Everything had been going so well so far. It hadn't crossed their minds that the Northerners might be so paranoid as to have doors that couldn't be opened from the outside at all.

He motioned at the others to stand aside and gave the gates a rough shove. They didn't budge.

He backed away, then took a few running steps to gather momentum, launching himself at the wooden surface, smashing his shoulder into it with all his considerable strength.

All he got for his troubles was a bruised shoulder. He might've as well been trying to push against the stone wall itself. It would take an actual battering ram to get through.

He turned around to face the others. "Definitely barred from the inside," he told them. "Did you question the guards?"

"Not yet," Pepper said.

"There's another option. We could work one of the doors off its hinges," Rhodey suggested, waving a hand towards the heavy iron joint connecting the door to the wall.

"That'd take a lot longer," Steve pointed out. "Let's try talking first."

He walked over to the two tied-up guards. One had his eyes closed, apparently still unconscious. The other glared daggers at Steve over the fabric gagging his mouth. Steve glared right back as he knelt on the ground in front of him, going for the most intimidating look he could muster. He'd been told he could be terrifying on a bad day, and that door standing between him and rescuing Tony made this one of the worst.

"I'm going to remove this gag, and you're going to answer one question for me: how do we get that door open? If you value your life, you're going to answer it, and not try to call for help," Steve snarled at the guard. He was bluffing, of course; he'd never actually murder someone, no matter how furious he felt. He hoped he was convincing, anyway. "Nod if you understand."

The guard narrowed his eyes, but gave a curt nod, so Steve loosened the gag.

The moment the guard's mouth was free, he let out a high-pitched call that rang loudly in the still night.

So much for keeping this mission covert.

Steve knocked the guard's head against the wall behind him, hard. He fell quiet except for a hiss of pain, followed by equally harsh breaths. Steve felt no sympathy for him as he quickly gagged him again.

"Should we retreat?" Sam asked anxiously.

It would definitely be the smartest, most prudent thing to do. If they hurried away now, they'd be able to disappear into the night. But in doing so, they'd probably lose any chance of using this same entrance later, because the Northerners would increase their defenses. 

The guard's alarm call had felt like it had lasted for a long time, but in reality, Steve had reacted right away, and it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. The guards elsewhere in the town might not have heard it, and in any case, they'd need time to figure out where it had come from.

Staying would be risky. Even if they got through the damned gates and into the dungeon, getting out would be extremely difficult when the enemies were aware of their intrusion—but Steve wasn't going to pull back now.

He straightened up, crossing his arms, looking each of his teammates in the eye: Rhodey and Pepper, who had been Tony's steadfast friends for a much longer time than Steve, and Sam, who hadn't known any of them until he'd been sent to Tony's house as a messenger a few months ago, but who had since them proven himself as stalwart as anyone Steve had served with.

"I'm not leaving without Tony," Steve declared. "If anyone else wants to, you should go now, while it's still easy."

None of the others made a move to indicate that they wanted out.

"We're not leaving either," Pepper said.

Steve nodded and gave the others a tight-lipped smile. "Let's do this, then. Rhodey, get that door open for us, and fast."

*********

Maybe there had been some truth to Seren's platitudes after all: the renewed hope from finding out that James was none other than Steve's dear friend Bucky was like a shot of adrenaline to keep Tony's exhausted heart going that little bit longer.

In hindsight, he should've suspected this right away. He'd guessed James had to be a recent arrival, and he knew how rarely people from the outside world ended up on the island. Years could pass without a single newcomer. It just hadn't crossed his mind that Steve's brother in arms might be working for the Northerners, and since Steve had repeatedly referred to Bucky as a kid and the little brother he'd never had, Tony had imagined him to look younger. Besides, Steve had never mentioned Bucky's full name—talking about him had been so painful to Steve that they had mostly avoided it—and Bucky wasn't the most obvious nickname for someone called James.

Tony's dire odds of surviving this ordeal were easier to accept when he knew that he could help Bucky and the dinosaurs escape. Steve would be overjoyed to have Bucky back. If Tony didn't make it, at least Steve would have his friend from the time before the island by his side, and maybe he wouldn't feel as sad.

His plan for breaking out was so flimsy that it barely deserved to be called a plan at all. Since the strutter was useless without a power source, what he had left was setting off the charges. They could then use the resulting chaos to break free through the back gate. It was something he'd learned about from Pearly-eye; conveniently close to the Vault and also the only possible exit for the _Torosaurus_ , who was too large to fit through the other, human-sized entrance.

The distance from the cells to the Vault felt longer than many full days of strenuous hiking that Tony had endured. He wouldn't even have made it the few feet from their cell block to the door leading out to the corridor without help. He felt like he was treading water, desperately trying to keep his head above the surface, half-drowned already. His heart was fluttering, too fast and too weak to keep him on his feet. Gray spots were dancing in his blurry field of vision. He made his best effort to stagger forwards, but most of the way, he was a dead weight that Bucky had to drag along.

There was a lone guard standing between them and the Vault. Seren offered to take care of him, but Bucky insisted on doing it. He seemed wary of the dinosaur. No doubt he only saw claws and teeth when he looked at Seren. He wasn't used to her kind, and couldn't tell how poorly she looked; so thin that one could discern the outlines of delicate bones under her scales and her miserably scrawny coat of feathers.

Bucky left Tony sitting against the wall at the last corner before the Vault entrance, Seren keeping him company. The relief of being off his feet threatened his resolve to keep going. He wanted so badly to stop struggling, give in to the darkness at the edges of his vision and rest.

Perhaps he did, without meaning to.

The next thing he knew was a sharp pinch at his shoulder: the tips of Seren's claws piercing the fabric of his shirt.

He coughed and gasped for breath. Too loud—they needed to stay quiet while Bucky dealt with the guard—but he couldn't help it, because he'd failed to stay above the surface, and he was drowning.

Bucky reappeared, a look of alarm on his face. "Let go of him," he commanded Seren in his Northern-accented common language.

Seren stepped away from Tony, straightened to her full height and hissed angrily at Bucky.

Tony wanted to tell Bucky that Seren had only been trying to help, that she'd only wanted to wake him, but he didn't have the breath. After a panicked moment that seemed to stretch on, he did finally manage to draw in enough air to cling to consciousness, and to force out a half-choked "it's fine" to his two at-odds companions.

Bucky and Seren scowled at each other, looking as if they were more likely to start a fight than work together.

"Keys?" Tony asked Bucky. He'd told him to take them from the guard.

"I've got them," Bucky replied, holding out a heavy key ring similar to the one he had himself.

Tony grabbed it and and passed it to Seren. "Go," he told her. "Hurry." She'd know what to do. The other dinosaur prisoners depended on her.

"I will. And you just hold on, Tony. We'll all be out of this awful place soon," Seren said. She turned on her sharp-clawed heel and raced out of the room, moving soundlessly except for the faint clink of the keys.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, watching her go until she disappeared behind a corner. He then turned his attention to Tony again. "Come on. We should go before someone shows up." Aware of how weak Tony was, he crouched down next to him, offering his shoulder for support.

Tony knew he needed all the help he could get. He shifted to sit on his knees, leaned on Bucky, and started to push himself up from the floor as slowly and cautiously as he could.

The change in position was still too much.

His heart gave a painful lurch, his legs started to fold, and darkness overtook him again.

When his vision cleared, he was on the floor, his back against the wall, and it took him a confused moment to realize that it wasn't the same place as before. He was no longer in the corridor, but in a larger space full of familiar machinery. Bucky must've carried him to the Vault.

Looking around, he spotted Bucky to his left, closing manacles around the wrists of someone who must be the guard he'd taken down. To his right, in the far corner, was Pearly-eye.

As soon as the _Torosaurus_ noticed Tony was awake, he stomped the ground and called out his name. "Tony? Are you unwell?"

Tony coughed out a chuckle. That was the understatement of the decade. He had both feet in the grave by now. "Quite," he replied, then turned his head towards the left again. "Bucky? Free him."

"Stark!" Bucky exclaimed, abandoning the guard to crouch in front of Tony. "You gave me quite the scare! I wasn't sure you'd wake up again."

Tony hadn't been sure he would, either.

He hated that he couldn't trust his body. He couldn't die now. Not yet. Not when his job wasn't finished.

"Free him," Tony repeated, waving a hand towards Pearly-eye.

Bucky glanced at the dinosaur, apprehension plain on his face. "You've told him not to eat me, right?" 

Tony gave him a glare. He really, really didn't have time for this. "He's a herbivore."

*********

Bucky approached the large horned dinosaur cautiously, almost on tiptoe, his arms spread in a hopefully placating gesture.

Everything he'd learned about dinosaurs after he'd woken up here had centered on fighting them. He'd learned their strengths, their many defenses, horns and claws and tails and thick skin, so that he'd be prepared for those, and he'd learned their weak points so that he'd know what to target. He didn't know a thing about how to handle them. He didn't have a lot of experience dealing with animals, in general, and definitely not ones that were around the size of an elephant. Besides, he wasn't even supposed to think of this being as an animal. Stark kept saying they were as smart as humans.

The dinosaur tilted his head curiously, his eyes following Bucky, but other than that, he stood his ground. He stayed equally still, perfectly docile, as Bucky stooped to release the fetters chaining him to the wall, then finished by lifting away the heavy iron collar.

As soon as he was entirely free, the dinosaur started lumbering towards Stark. Bucky followed, trying to push down the nonsensical protective urge to try to hold back the dinosaur. He wasn't sure where that came from: was it because he'd grown to respect Stark, or because he felt guilty, or perhaps the very selfish concern that if Stark didn't make it, he'd have no one to guide him back to Steve?

Of course, his protectiveness was unnecessary and misplaced. The dinosaur was friends with Stark. More so than Bucky was.

If only he'd stepped in and offered his help earlier. Things could've been very different. The way they were now, he was afraid he'd been too late; it was obvious that Stark was at death's door.

The dinosaur stopped by Stark's side and bent his front legs, bringing his massive head level with Stark's face. Stark pressed his forehead against the dinosaur's crest and patted his snout, and they had a brief exchange of unintelligible growls and grunts.

When the conversation paused, Stark turned towards Bucky again. "I need to get there," he said, gesturing at the back wall, across the room, where he'd spent a lot of his time on the past few days.

"The last time you tried to get up didn't go too well," Bucky pointed out. The wave of fear he'd felt when Stark had collapsed was still fresh in his mind. He was pretty sure Stark had actually stopped breathing for a moment, and Bucky had thought it was all over. He would do everything he could to avoid a repeat occurrence. "I'll give you a lift."

"No, I—" Stark began.

They were in a hurry, so this was clearly the best option. Bucky shifted on the floor so that his back was towards Stark. "Would you rather faint again? Hop on. I can do this."

Stark muttered something irritable that didn't sound like English, but put his arms over Bucky's shoulders anyway, allowing Bucky to pick him up on piggy-back. It was only some fifteen feet to the other side of the room, and Bucky had no trouble carrying Stark across, especially since he was lighter than one would expect from a man his height. He must've lost weight over the month he'd spent in captivity, Bucky thought, with another pang of guilt.

Stark instructed Bucky where to set him down, seated in front of some specific collection of machinery. Bucky had no clue what any of it was for, and Stark didn't stop to explain, just went straight to work, no doubt moving as fast as his badly strained breathing and visibly shaking hands allowed.

"Can I help?" Bucky tried, feeling frustrated just standing around.

"No," Stark replied without turning his eyes from whatever he was doing.

Luckily, the wait wasn't too long. Sooner that Bucky would've expected, Stark stopped to lean against a large propped-up metal plate, his eyes closed. "Done," he said in Dinotopian, his voice almost inaudible.

"Okay? Now what?" Bucky asked, sticking to English. He knew Stark's plan involved an explosion to create a distraction and rushing out under its cover, but they hadn't spoken of any details beyond that.

Stark didn't switch languages when he answered, making Bucky realize that he was probably doing this to include the dinosaur in the conversation. "Once I start the timer," Stark explained, every few words cut off by a gulp of air, "we'll have around five minutes."

Bucky bit his lip. There was one glaring problem with this. Five minutes would be plenty for a fit man, or dinosaur, to run to the exit, but Stark couldn't even stand. Bucky knew he couldn't realistically consider carrying Stark all the way out and who knew how much further, so that they could be sure they'd shaken off any pursuers. He glanced at the mysterious vehicle that Stark had been building. It bore a striking resemblance to the horned dinosaur currently standing next to it, and it looked quite ready.

"Does that thing work?" he asked Stark hopefully.

"No. He'll carry me." Stark nodded towards the dinosaur.

It hadn't crossed Bucky's mind that it might be possible to ride this massive being. It made perfect sense, though.

The dinosaur walked closer and lowered himself to the ground, waiting to be mounted.

"Right. You start the timer and hop on your steed here. I'll go ahead and open the door for you, and we leg it like our lives depend on it," Bucky summarized. "Hopefully your clawed friend from the cell is close by, because we won't have time to wait for her."

"She will be," Stark promised. "Ready?"

"Ready," Bucky said, and the dinosaur gave a low murmur that must've been agreement.

Stark reached out for a cog in his assembly of parts, flicked aside a peg that had been holding it in place, and leaned back again. "Done."

"Let's go, then," Bucky said. He helped Stark to the awaiting dinosaur's back, spending a precious minute to make sure he was seated there securely and not about to pass out that instant. Then, Bucky jogged to the door to twist the heavy wheel that unlocked it.

Holding his breath, half expecting there to be an army of guards waiting for him behind it, Bucky pushed the door open.

The corridor beyond was empty and perfectly quiet.

"All clear! Run!" he called out to the dinosaur in his best version of the local language, although the message would've probably been clear anyway.

The dinosaur heeded his words, chasing after him, moving fast for a being whose footfalls were heavy enough to make the stone floor tremble. It was quite a sight to behold, Bucky thought as he glanced over his shoulder, seeing Stark on the dinosaur's back, clinging to the colorful crest.

It was a stroke of luck that Bucky happened to be watching at the exact moment when Stark's eyes closed and he started listing precariously to one side.

Bucky changed direction, hurrying to the dinosaur's side. The dinosaur must've noticed Stark's weight shifting, because he stopped and knelt so that Bucky could catch Stark before he fell.

Getting out of the Vault had taken them a while. They couldn't have many minutes left.

There was only one solution to the situation that Bucky could think of.

Ignoring the part of his mind fixated on the Resistance members' teachings of how horrible dinosaurs were, and the cautious part that reminded him he'd never been particularly proficient as a rider, Bucky leaped onto the dinosaur's back to keep Stark in place.

"Go, go, go!" he urged.

The dinosaur took off again at full pelt, and Bucky held on to Stark and their unlikely steed for dear life.


	9. Chapter 8

The door remained stubbornly shut when the first enemies showed up. There were just two of them, and Steve and Sam took them down fast, before they had the time to shout out any warnings.

Natasha climbed down to join them soon after that. It was good that she did, since the next group of Northerners, probably alerted by the scout team's absence, was larger: six men and women armed with knives and primitive pistols. The noise from the battle that followed was sure to draw in even more enemies.

Steve fought like he hadn't since he'd left behind the war. Luckily, these weren't skills that he would easily forget, and his strength and agility gave him an advantage over everyone. He, Sam, and Natasha did their best to hold back the enemies, giving Pepper and Rhodey room to keep working.

A third wave of Northerners had just appeared, more heavily armed than the earlier arrivals, when Pepper's voice cut through the clamor. "Something's happening! Stand away from the gates!"

The warning gave Steve just enough time to knock down the man he'd been fighting and turn towards the gates before all hell broke loose.

With a loud crash, the gates flew open, right off their hinges, as a large ceratopsian dinosaur—male, guessing by the coloring of his crest—barged through. In his wake followed a dozen other, smaller dinosaurs; Steve could spot sharp-clawed dromaeosaurs, ostrich-like ornithomimosaurs, and a dog-sized _Hypsilophodon_.

As the ceratopsian came into full view, Steve saw in the pale morning light that there were two men on his back, and he recognized both of them right away. He would've known them anywhere.

His emotions flipped from overflowing joy to crushing concern when the dinosaur got closer and he could see more detail.

Bucky—looking slightly older than Steve remembered him, as if he had aged a year within the months they'd spent apart, his hair longer, his face more lined—was holding on to Tony, whose usually neat facial hair had grown to a scraggly beard during his captivity. Tony seemed out cold, hunched forwards, his eyes closed.

Steve had barely had enough time to wrap his mind around this sight when something exploded in the castle behind them.

The scene that had frozen for a few seconds, with everyone staring at the dinosaur stampede, turned into utter chaos. The Northerners who were still standing clearly didn't know what to do, shouting to each other in agitated voices, some of them approaching the dungeon entrance. One persistent young lady tried to attack Steve, but he sent her staggering away with a sharp kick.

Pepper and Rhodey had leaped to the side to avoid being crushed by the doors, and Steve caught them glancing at him as if asking for instructions. He wasn't sure if they'd noticed Tony yet.

The dinosaurs, including the one carrying Tony and Bucky, who probably hadn't spotted Steve in the faint dawn light, continued their charge without slowing down, following the track leading towards the shore.

Steve had sworn he wouldn't leave without Tony, and now Tony was getting further away from him by the second. The general mayhem made this the perfect moment to retreat.

He beckoned to Pepper and Rhodey, and shouted out to the others. "Sam! Natasha! Time to go!"

Steve lingered at the tail of the retreating procession, making sure that everyone else got away, fighting off the Northerners who tried to follow. Luckily, there weren't many. Steve and the others had incapacitated a good few, and in the current confusion, some seemed to have decided to pull back. The explosion in the castle probably seemed like a more pressing concern to them than escaping prisoners or a small group of would-be intruders who'd never even made it inside the town walls.

Once the situation seemed clear, no Northerners following and the retreating group out of sight from Crabb Castle among the bushes and cliffs closer to the shore, Steve picked up his pace to catch up with the head of the pack. He found Natasha guiding Tony and Bucky's steed, and he could guess she was taking them towards the camp. It was still some way to go, though. Steve couldn't wait. He had to know that Tony was okay.

"Natasha? I think we're safe to stop for a moment here," he told her.

"All right," she acknowledged, and passed the word to the ceratopsian in some saurian dialect or the other—Steve still struggled to tell them apart.

"Can you take Sam and set up a lookout, just to be sure?" Steve asked Natasha as the procession came to a halt around them.

"Of course. You take care of Tony." She squeezed his shoulder in support before walking over to where Sam stood.

Steve turned to face the two men on the dinosaur's back. Tony was still unconscious, while Bucky was staring at Steve, wide-eyed.

"Steve! It's true—you're alive!" Bucky exclaimed, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying.

"I could say the same about you. I thought I'd lost you!" Steve returned. He guessed it would be a long story how Bucky had survived and how he'd ended up in Crabb Castle with Tony, but that would have to wait. Steve held out his arms towards the two men. "What happened to Tony? Is he okay?"

The ceratopsian knelt to bring his riders closer to the ground. "I don't know. I don't think so," Bucky replied gravely. He grabbed Tony by the armpits and lowered him to Steve over the dinosaur's side.

Tony didn't react to anything that was happening, alarmingly quiet and still as Steve took him in his arms.

"He's been ill since yesterday," Bucky added as he slid down from his steed. "Unconscious since we left the dungeons. He said something's wrong with his heart and mentioned some device and charging with the sun, that's all I know."

"That's all I need to know," Steve said, no less concerned, although it was a relief to have an idea of what the issue might be. If the sunstone was out of charge, that should be easy to fix. If it was more than that—Steve didn't know who could repair it. Maybe Jarvis, but probably not here, on the road, without tools and materials. He hoped that wasn't something they'd have to consider.

The cliffs surrounding them blocked most of the sun. Steve looked around frantically until he spotted a gap in them where the precious rays of light painted a brighter spot on the ground. That was where he took Tony and set him down gently. Not wanting to waste any further time, he tore Tony's shirt apart with his bare hands. The sunstone had been a closely kept secret, but right now, whether anyone noticed it or not was the last thing on Steve's mind.

Steve opened the metal cover protecting the sunstone. Underneath, the stone was a dull dark green, almost black. Steve had never seen it like that. It was terrifying, just like the awful stillness of Tony's chest.

He glanced up at Bucky. "How long since he stopped breathing?"

Bucky crossed his arms—Steve noticed that one of his hands looked metallic, like he was wearing a gauntlet—and swallowed. Steve could've sworn there was guilt in his expression. "I'm not sure," Bucky said. "Sometime during the ride."

The sun's rays were catching the stone, and it was changing in front of Steve's eyes, lifeless darkness giving way to a vivid, blue-green shimmer. Still, Steve knew that if Tony had been without air too long, he would be beyond help.

He patted Tony's cheek. "Tony. Tony, wake up."

He got no response.

This couldn't be happening. Steve couldn't have come all this way and finally found Tony, only to be too late by a matter of minutes.

He raised Tony's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the lifeless fingers. "Tony, please. I'm right here. Come back to me."

He could feel a tear sliding down his face and absently wondered what Bucky would make of all this. Not that it mattered.

He shifted his hold, his fingertips searching Tony's wrist for a pulse. He found one, to his surprise, slow but steady. Maybe it was just the sunstone. Maybe it meant nothing.

He still wasn't ready to give up hope.

"Tony," he tried once more, shaking him by the shoulder.

He thought he was imagining things at first when he saw Tony's expression change, his eyebrows knitting together.

Tony drew a rattling breath and coughed weakly. His eyes opened, but there was no recognition in them, only distress.

"Prop him up, quickly," Rhodey advised. "That should help with his breathing."

Steve hadn't even noticed Rhodey. Briefly lifting his gaze from Tony, he saw that there were others gathered around them: Pepper was there, too, and a gaunt _Deinonychus_ sat on the ground nearby, next to the ceratopsian.

Steve hurried to do as Rhodey had suggested, settling behind Tony to pull him into a half-seated position in his lap.

Tony coughed again, and his next gulp of air sounded slightly cleaner.

Steve captured Tony's hand between both of his and squeezed it. "There you go. Just keep breathing. Everything will be fine."

"Steve," Tony murmured.

"Yes. I'm here." Steve squeezed Tony's fingers again.

Tony tilted his head against Steve, trying to shift and get a look at him. "H-how?" he gasped.

"Shhh, we can talk later." Steve tightened his arms around Tony in something resembling a hug, holding him in place firmly, but gently. "All that matters is that you're back with us."

*********

"I think he's going to be okay," said the older and shorter of the two black men Bucky had spotted among Steve's friends. He'd crouched next to Tony and Steve on the ground and taken a good look at the mysterious gem embedded in Tony's chest. "Jarvis knows more than I do, so I suggest we continue to the camp."

"If you're sure we can move him," Steve said softly, running his fingers up and down Tony's arm where he rested on Steve's lap.

Steve's friend nodded. "As sure as I can be. It's less than ten minutes away. He should be fine."

After waking up briefly, Tony had fallen asleep again, but Bucky could tell he was improving, from the color returning to his cheeks and the way his breathing sounded better than it had all night.

Before they set off again, there was a brief conversation that included the large dinosaur who'd been their steed. Bucky didn't understand the words, but he got the impression that the dinosaur was offering to carry Tony again, which Steve declined. He didn't let Tony out of his arms for one second, but picked him up, cradling him close, as if he weighed nothing. Clearly, Steve was as strong as ever. Crashing on the island hadn't changed that.

Looking around him as they walked ahead amidst the cliffs near the shore, Bucky found himself thinking about how different Steve's life on Dinotopia must have been to his own. The group Steve was traveling with, two men and two women, carried no weapons that Bucky could see, unlike the Northerners. All of them seemed perfectly at ease with the dinosaurs, talking with them, and occasionally helping them when the terrain got difficult, since some of them had injuries, either as a result of their captivity, or inflicted by the guards during their escape.

Of course, the one person Bucky wondered about the most was Tony Stark. Tony had described Steve to Bucky as "someone very dear to him", and after seeing Steve's despair when he'd feared Tony was dead, and the tender way he'd cared for him, it was obvious Steve felt the same way. Bucky hadn't seen Steve like this before. Steve could be gentle when dealing with civilians, but this was something else. Something deeper.

A brief walk brought them to a sheltered corner of the shore where a simple but cozy-looking camp had been set up. They were greeted by a white-haired man who took the arrival of an unexpected pack of dinosaurs in stride. He fussed over Tony, arranging a few rucksacks behind his back to keep him propped up, and muttering grumpily as he worked.

Steve stayed by Tony's side, watching the older man. Around Bucky, the others were offering their assistance to the dinosaurs, binding wounds and handing out food. They also asked Bucky if he needed anything, but he shook his head. 

He felt lost. Misplaced. He didn't know these people. Yesterday, they'd still been his enemies. He didn't know what would happen to him next. Where would he go? Would they make him answer for his crimes? Would he be able to fit in and learn to live with all these dinosaurs? And considering how close Steve seemed with Tony, would he have any time to spare for Bucky at all?

"I'm convinced he'll make a full recovery," the white-haired man was telling Steve. "He just needs rest."

"All right. Thank you." Steve bent closer and pressed a kiss on Tony's forehead. If Bucky had needed further proof of their closeness, it was right there.

Steve stood up, his eyes searching the surroundings and fixating on Bucky.

Bucky found himself oddly nervous as Steve approached him, but Steve clearly had no such reservations. As he got closer, he spread his arms in invitation, and when Bucky leaned into it, Steve hugged him tightly.

When Steve let go, he was frowning at Bucky. "What happened to your arm?" he asked, and took hold of Bucky's metal hand, pulling back his sleeve to reveal more of the prosthetic.

"I lost it in the crash," Bucky explained. He felt more self-conscious about it than he'd ever been before.

Steve's face fell. "Oh, that's terrible, I'm so sorry." He let go of the metal arm and put his hand on Bucky's good shoulder instead. "I'm sure I can't even begin to imagine everything you've had to go through, but I'm so glad you're alive, you have no idea."

"Likewise. So very glad." Bucky didn't really have the words to describe how happy he was to see Steve again, but hopefully, Steve knew anyway. "You made it without any injuries?"

"I broke my leg. It's healed already," Steve said dismissively. He'd always healed fast, so Bucky wasn't surprised to hear that. "Come, I'll introduce you to my friends."

Bucky pursed his lips. He couldn't just pretend that everything was fine, start making new friends and go on with his life. He'd feel like a liar. "We should talk first. Just you and me."

"Okay?" Steve seemed taken aback, but nevertheless motioned at an unoccupied stretch of rock at the outskirts of the camp. "Over there? If this is about me and Tony, I can guess it must be a big surprise to you, and—"

"It's not," Bucky replied quickly as they started walking in the direction Steve had suggested. "I mean, it's a surprise, but I don't mind. Tony seems like an amazing person. I'd like to get to know him better. You came here to rescue him and the dinosaurs, right?"

"Just him. We didn't know about the dinosaurs," Steve said. "It's good that you helped all of them escape."

"You shouldn't thank me for that," Bucky told him, forcing himself to look Steve in the eye, even though he wanted to disappear under one of the rocks around them. "It's my fault Tony was there in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Steve was frowning, looking puzzled rather than disappointed. Bucky was sure that would change when he heard the whole story.

"I helped capture him, and I was his warden since the beginning." As Bucky went on, the words started to flow easier, everything he'd wanted to talk about for so long spilling out. "They rescued me after the crash, they told me the dinosaurs were evil and that Tony was evil, too, and I believed every word of it. I thought they were helping people, so I wanted to help them. I didn't realize it was all backwards. Even when I saw them do things I didn't like, I still thought they were in the right when it came to dinosaurs. Tony tried to tell me the truth, and I wouldn't listen. Not until it was almost too late."

"But you did listen. That's the important part," Steve said. The disappointment Bucky had been waiting for was still not there, as somber as his expression was.

"Tony could've died. He asked me to take him outside earlier and I refused," Bucky insisted.

"And did he tell you how dangerous it would be for him to stay in the dark?" Steve asked.

"Well, no, not at first," Bucky admitted. "He only explained it to me last night."

"Then you couldn't have known. Just like you couldn't know that the Northerners weren't telling you the truth," Steve said resolutely. "I don't blame you for anything."

Bucky let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging. He didn't feel like he deserved this, but Steve's forgiveness was still a huge relief. "Thank you."

"You should talk to Natasha," Steve added, and pointed out one of the two ladies who'd been with him, the one whose red hair was straight rather than wavy. "I shouldn't be telling you this, because people here say you shouldn't pry into anyone's past, but her story is a lot like yours. She ended up in the North as well."

Somehow, Bucky had never thought others might've been in the same situation as him. "Really? And she left?"

"Yes. And now she's a citizen of Dinotopia, like all the rest of us, and I think she's happy there," Steve said. "I'm sure you will be, too."

"I hope so."

Bucky looked at the camp around them, all the different dinosaurs and humans working together. He still thought many of the dinosaurs looked menacing, but they were quite beautiful, too, in their own way.

*********

Tony woke up with no idea of where he was, except that he had to be outside: even with his eyes closed, he could feel the lovely warmth of sunlight on his face and his bare chest. The surface beneath him was more uneven than the floor of his cell, and his back rested against something lumpy.

A heaviness still lingered inside his chest, so that breathing took more effort than it should, but he could tell he was better, the sunstone charged, his heartbeat strong and steady thanks to it.

He'd survived, against all odds. He had a vague memory of seeing Steve, even though that made no sense. Steve had to be hundreds of miles away. He must've been dreaming.

He opened his eyes to brightness that was overwhelming after all the time he'd spent in the dark. He raised a hand to his brow, blinking furiously.

"Tony? How are you feeling?" asked a voice that wasn't Steve's, but equally unexpected.

"Jarvis?" Tony turned his head to face the familiar features of his oldest friend. "How are you here?" It was nice to be able to talk properly again, even if it sounded weak and breathy in his ears.

"Why, we came to rescue you, of course," Jarvis said, like that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tony hadn't been expecting a rescue. Not because he'd thought the others didn't care—he'd known Steve would do whatever he could—but because he'd thought they would never be able to find him in the North. Clearly, he'd underestimated their resourcefulness. "Of course," he repeated. "Where am I, anyway? How long was I out?"

"Not long enough, if you ask me. Less than an hour. You need time to recover." Jarvis's hand caught Tony's wrist, no doubt to take his pulse. "You're at our camp by the shore, not far from Crabb Castle. What do you remember?"

"We were making a run for it. I was on Pearly-eye's back with Bucky. Then nothing. Is Steve here?" Tony looked around, squinting against the blinding sun. He saw many people and dinosaurs spread out amidst the rocky surroundings: his friends and his fellow captives.

"Hey, Steve! Tony's awake," Jarvis called out, letting go of Tony's hand. "Try to take it easy, will you?"

"Yes, yes," Tony muttered, entirely distracted by the sight of Steve hurrying towards him across the campsite, as perfect as ever. With the sunlight making his hair look even more golden than usual, he was the most stunning thing Tony had seen in ages.

There were no words, at first. Steve sat down on the ground next to Tony and put his arms around him. Tony trailed his hand up Steve's back to his hair and pulled him into a kiss so intense, it left him woozy. He still didn't want to let go. Saying that he'd needed this more than he'd needed air would've been a romantic exaggeration, but it also wouldn't have been too far from the truth.

"I was so worried," Steve said when they finally pulled apart, one hand on Tony's shoulder, the other cupping his face.

"I missed you so much," Tony said, running his fingers up and down Steve's back. "I dreamed about you. I can't believe you're really here."

"There's a lot of that going around today," Steve noted, casting a glance over his shoulder, where Bucky was standing nearby, looking like he wasn't sure if he should be there or not.

"God, Steve, I was such an idiot. It took me forever to realize who he was. What kind of a nickname is "Bucky" for someone called James, anyway?" Tony asked.

"Oh. I never did tell you his full name, did I?" Steve said, sheepish. He sat back from Tony and motioned at Bucky to move closer. "Tony Stark. Meet James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky, to his friends."

"Well, that does make more sense." Tony held out his hand for Bucky. "Pleased to meet you, James B. Barnes."

Bucky knelt to shake Tony's hand, his expression dead serious. "I'm glad you're feeling better, and I'm sorry about everything."

"You don't need to apologize. I wouldn't have made it out without you." Tony wasn't going to hold a grudge against him. He knew Bucky had been in a hard place, and he'd as good as seen the internal struggle Bucky had been going through. "I'm not surprised you were stubborn when you thought you were doing the right thing. I can guess who you've learned that from."

Steve patted Bucky on the back, a fond look in his eyes. "I don't think he needed to learn that from anyone."

"I'm sure he'll make a fine addition to the team, then," Tony declared. "Did you meet everyone already?"

"I was just introducing him to them," Steve replied in Bucky's stead. "But who's this?" he added, when a dinosaur pushed past him to Tony's side.

Tony almost didn't recognize her at first. It was Seren, but she must've gone to the sea for a swim, because for the first time, he saw her with all her scales and feathers clean, shimmering in shades of red and green under the sun. She was still skinny, but clearly, being outside was doing wonders for her, as well.

"Hello, there! You're looking good," Tony greeted her in Saurian.

"You're looking better, yourself. I'm pleased," Seren returned, and pressed the top of her head against Tony's cheek in an affectionate gesture.

"Should I be jealous?" Steve joked.

"No, but you should thank her," Tony said, ruffling the feathers at Seren's neck. "Seren saw me through some of the worst times."

"Then I thank you, Seren, for being there for him when I couldn't," Steve said solemnly. His Saurian was still accented, but Tony was sure Seren appreciated the effort.

Seren lifted her head to address Steve directly. "Your mate is a good man. I know many don't see him that way. I'm going to tell them they're wrong."

"You don't need to that, really, but thank you," Tony told her. He switched to the common tongue as he went on, to make sure Bucky understood. "As for whether I'm a good man—there's something I've been thinking about. Maybe it's time for Iron Man to take an active role in this conflict. We freed the dinosaurs from Crabb Castle, but who knows how many other prisoners are out there? We should help them, if we can."

He'd been thinking about this even before he'd been captured, occasionally, but it had seemed like it would complicate things too much. He'd been too worried that the Dinotopians might shun him entirely if he told them that he was Iron Man, let alone involved himself in the conflict with the North. With everything that had happened, things had fallen into a new perspective.

He'd been a coward. He should've done something about the situation a long time ago.

"I think that's a great idea," Steve said. "Besides, I think I know a few other people who'd like to help."

"Definitely," Bucky said, eyes lighting up with excitement. It didn't seem to matter to him that he didn't know who or what Iron Man was.

On Tony's other side, Jarvis huffed and shook his head. "Tony, couldn't you at least wait until you're back on your feet before you start making new plans for getting yourself in trouble?"

Tony instantly thought of a dozen protests to what everyone was saying—to Jarvis, because he was almost certain he could stand up and leap into action right now, if he needed to, and to Steve and Bucky, because he didn't like the idea of putting his friends in harm's way. Before he had time to actually give voice to his disapproval, Steve had grabbed him in a hug again, and Seren had sat down on top of his blanket-covered legs. Bucky grinned, his expression more relaxed than Tony had ever seen. Not too far behind him, Pearly-eye was giving them an amused look as well.

"I think we can make sure he stays put a while longer," Steve announced, and pressed a lingering kiss on Tony's cheek.


End file.
